Phillips Harbour
Saturday, October 10, 1868.
Scheduling the outing for Mrs. Stephenson, Miss Pau, and Mr. Hobson proved trickier than Herbert had expected. Mrs. Stephenson seemed at first reluctant to accept the invitation, protesting first that she didn't want to put him to any trouble, and next that she had too much work to do on the farm. But after some persuasion, and an additional application from Miss Pau to accept, Mrs. Stephenson allowed that next Saturday evening should be fine.
On the evening of the event, Mr. Hobson arrived early by nearly half an hour. Caliban had only just left for the graveyard, and Mr. Shaft was still wrestling with some of the details of manning the houseboat that he normally left to the chimpanzee.
"Hello? Mr. Shaft?" The undertaker's voice floated in from the dock, through the open door of the wheelhouse.
"Ah, is that you Mr. Hobson?" Shaft calls as he leans out of the wheelhouse door to get a better look. "So it is! Please, come aboard, sir, and be welcome. I'm just running through the preparations to cast off."
"Much obliged, sir. I'm not too early, am I?" Mr. Hobson takes his hat off as he ascends the ramp, twisting it in his hands. He's wearing a well-kept black suit, with a flower in the buttonhole, looking dapper but somber.
"Only just a bit," Shaft replies, waving the man into the wheelhouse. "I ordered some food from The Red Flag, but it hasn't been delivered yet." He moves to the chart table, where a map of the harbor is laid out, with the positions of the marker buoys circled.
"Sorry about that," Mr. Hobson says, as if it were somehow his fault. "The ladies are coming, aren't they?" He enters the wheelhouse, still twisting his hat with a distracted air.
"Oh yes, yes they are," Herbert says, smiling. "I've gotten the main cabin ready to serve as a parlor, and if the weather cooperates we should have some spectacular views of the stars this evening."
The undertaker peers through the glass of the wheelhouse to the sea beyond. "Sunset will look beautiful on the water, too. Very ro -- very beautiful." He smoothes down his sandy hair nervously. "Awfully nice of you to invite us, sir. How is your research going?"
"Quite well, I think," Shaft says, looking over the chart again. "I should be able to gather some useful data tonight, by visiting the harbor buoys - along with improving my night-time navigation skills, I hope." After checking the chart, he moves to the back of the wheelhouse to check the temperature and pressure gauges for the still-simmering boiler. "It will also be the first time I've run the Babbage on my own, actually, although she is designed to be run by a single person."
"Oh? Who usually helps you?" Mr. Hobson asks, startled. "I heard you'd come to Phillips Harbour alone."
"Oh, I didn't pilot the Babbage across the ocean, it was towed here," Shaft says. "My research assistant usually helps out, but he has the evening to himself today. Once the boiler is at full pressure, I can control everything from here."
"Research assistant, huh? Funny no one mentioned him before. But keeps you from getting lonely, right? You do a lot of traveling in your research, don't you?" Mr. Hobson looks over the levers and buttons of the wheelhouse curiously, though he doesn't touch anything.
From the dock, they hear a familiar woman's voice call out. "Hallo there? Sir?"
"Well, not all research can be done 'on the road' of course," Shaft says, then turns back to the wheelhouse door to see if it's the girl from the Inn. "Yes, hello?" he calls out.
Mr. Hobson chuckles. "Of course. Looks like you'll be doing some of it at sea tonight. What information are you planning to get from the buoys?" He follows Shaft to the deck. Gertie from the Inn is standing on the dock with her arms full of wicker basket. Behind her, Mrs. Stephenson and Miss Pau are coming up the dock. Looks like everyone makes a habit of being early in Phillips Harbour.
"Just a bit of cartographic readings," Shaft says quickly to Mr. Hobson, then descends to the deck and heads for Gertie. "I see that my other guests are arriving now as well! Why not come along and greet them, Mr. Hobson?"
Mr. Hobson's face breaks into a nervous by genuine smile. He shuffles after Mr. Shaft, putting his hat back on once outside, and then tipping it to the ladies. "Evening, Gertie, Mrs. Stephenson," he says, his voice weak and half-drowned out by the normal noises of the bay.
The barmaid passes up the heavy wicker backet to Mr. Shaft gratefully, and accepts her payment with a courtsey. "Thank you, sir. You can return the basket and dishes whenever you like, tain't no trouble on that count. Or I can come back for them later, if you prefer."
"Oh, it will be easier for me to drop them off, Miss Gertie, no need to trouble yourself with picking them up," Shaft says, and nods his head in greeting to the other two women. "Mrs. Stephenson, Miss Pau, good evening and welcome aboard the Babbage."
"Thank you, sir," Mrs. Stephenson says, a bit breathless from her walk. Mr. Hobson hurries forward to help her up the ramp, leaving Mr. Shaft to assist Miss Pau behind her, if he chooses.
Shifting the basket to his right hand, Shaft offers his left elbow to Miss Pau.
Miss Pau accepts it with a smile, her eyes twinkling with some particular amusement.
Once aboard, Shaft leads his guests to the 'parlor', which is simply the main cabin of the yacht with all of the bunks folded away in favor of more comfortable seating, and sets down the large basket on the dining table. "I'm afraid it doesn't compare to your own well appointed parlor, Mrs. Stephenson, but I do hope it will suffice," he says to the red-haired woman somewhat apologetically.
"But it's so charming, Mr. Shaft! Imagine, all this fitted onto a boat! It's like taking your home with you wherever you go. You must be quite rich to afford all this, sir," Mrs. Stephenson remarks, taking in the surroundings. Her compliments sound heartfelt.
"Well enough off, Mrs. Stephenson," Shaft admits. "Although hardly rich, especially after this boat's construction. While I'm sure the technologies will eventually find their way into other vessels, they were quite expensive to develop I'm afraid."
"Goodness, did you have it all specially made? I guess you must've. I can't imagine!" Mrs. Stephenson says. For some reason, Mr. Hobson looks put out by this turn of conversation. He's holding his hat in his hands again, twisting it.
"Well.. there were many backers involved, in truth," Herbert says. "But if you will excuse me, I should finish preparing us to cast off. I'm certain Mr. Hobson can keep you entertained while I go about my tasks."
"I
"I'll do my best, sir, ladies," Mr. Hobson says. He sets his hat on the table and uncovers the wicker basket. "I'll just set out dinner, shall I? It's good to see you again, Mrs. Stephenson. And you too, Miss Pau," he adds as an afterthought.
Shaft nods and slips out of the cabin, whereupon he takes a deep breath on deck, and lets it out slowly. Mrs. Stephenson's attention had been making him quite nervous. Once he feels recovered, he returns to the wheelhouse to bring the boiler up to pressure, and start the engine.
Shortly after the boiler has reached the correct pressure point and he's managed to start the engine, he's startled by a voice. "Everything goes as you plan?" Miss Pau is standing in the wheelhouse doorway, still smiling. He must not have heard approach over the roar of the engine starting.
Herbert nearly jumps in surprise, then smiles and nods to the woman. "So far, at least, Miss Pau. I assume you've heard the news of Reverend Hale's return?" he says, then pulls the lever to engage the electric generator, so that the anchor winch and gangplank motors can be powered.
"Oh yes. Everyone is very glad to have him back safe. He is well, it seems, though I do not think he has told anyone what happened to him. Do you know otherwise?" Miss Pau asks.
"I have not had a chance to speak to him since his return," Herbert answers. "Although I heard that the Frenchman reappeared when Hale did, although he did so at his rented home instead of in the woods. Have you heard anything more about the Reverend yourself?"
"A little. Mrs. Milton, Reverend Milton's wife, came to call during the week. Apparently, Reverend Hale was quite concerned about the Frenchman's well being. Did you know that?" Miss Pau asks, watching Herbert's face.
"That is unexpected," Herbert says, trying to think of the reason. "They were both missing, and the Frenchman supposedly led Hale to the hill. Do you think they were both trapped by the local spirit?"
"No," she says, and then pauses. "I think the reverend was trapped by the hill, and the Frenchman somehow secured his release. In the wee hours of the morning before their return, the Hill was filled with anger. It is still angry now, I think."
"I shall make a note to avoid the area," Herbert says, and uses the controls to bring up the anchor and retract the gangway. "The Frenchman is an enigma to me, I'm afraid. I don't suppose your friend 'Yotee' knows anything about him.. or if you know what your friend was up to the night he caused such a ruckus at the Inn?"
"No, I have not seen him for several days, nor has Lei." Miss Pau leans against the frame of the wheelhouse door, watching the sun set over the entrance to the bay. "And what of you? Did you learn anything more of Yotee's enigmatic master, when you went to see him?"
"The man denied having anything to do with the 'dog' seen visiting his rented farm," Shaft says. "I don't have any reason to trust or distrust his claim yet. I've yet to actually meet Yotee, after all." He locks down the the controls, and turns towards Miss Pau. "I'm afraid the mooring lines need to be released by hand. If you'll excuse me for a moment?"
She nods, stepping out of his way. "May I be of assistance?" Miss Pau asks, looking thoughtful at his last words.
"Of course," Shaft says, seeing no reason why the woman couldn't handle a slipknot. "If you could release the aft mooring line, I will handle the fore one. All you need to do is give the loose end of the rope a good yank."
Miss Pau complies and does as instructed with no difficulties. Soon, the boathouse is underway just as smoothly as if Caliban were here to run things. Mrs. Stephenson and Mr. Hobson emerge from belowdecks to enjoy the seabreeze and the sunset.
A short while later, they reach the first buoy, and Mr. Shaft drops anchor. He notes down the results of a reading from one of his devices, then all of them adjourn belowdecks to eat and talk. After dinner, the cruise continues to another buoy. Mr. Hobson and Mrs. Stephenson wander off to an empty part of the deck to look at the stars, while Miss Pau watches Mr. Shaft get another reading from his Spirit Compass. "What is that device for?" she asks. "Navigation?"
"Not reliable navigation, no," Shaft says. "It sometimes responds to the use of magic, which is how I was able to locate the hill Reverend Hale was being held at." After jotting down the readings, he turns to the woman and says, "I imagine your own means of detecting magic is a bit more.. refined."
"Different," she acknowledges. "You just ... turn it on and off? Like a switch?"
"Well, no, the compass is always working," Herbert says. "It just doesn't relay very exact information. It can show direction and relative intensity, but that is its limit. I cannot even be sure if each ring points to the same source it did in a previous location, and with so many sources in the area, trying to track them all down would be very time consuming. But the readings may still be valuable in relation to something else later."
"Very curious," Miss Pau says, thoughtfully. "I think I will continue to use my spells, however, even if they are more trouble to start than producing your device from its box."
"Speaking of spells, would you give me your opinion on something I came across that may have a magical significance?" Shaft asks Pau.
"I should be happy to," the woman replies. "What is it?"
Herbert goes to the chart table, and unlocks one of the drawers beneath it. "A tattoo, for starters," he says, and removes several pieces of paper. He arranges them on the table so that the patterns traced on them line up as they did on the body they were discovered on. "These markings where on a man who.. met with some misfortune. I haven't been able to find anything in my own books that could relate to them however."
Miss Pau studies the drawings for some moments, turning them this way and that as she examines them. At length, she shakes her head. "I am sorry. All I can tell you is that these are not the markings of an Eastern practitioner. Someone from the West, perhaps, or Africa."
"Or no one," she adds, with a smile. "We paractitioners sometimes get so caught up in the meanings of our designs that we forget not every design has a meaning."
"Africa.. I don't know much about their magic traditions, although the man was certainly of Northern European stock. I only suspect magic due to.. well, some odd things Caliban saw." He collects the drawings once more, and replaces them with something else: a positive print of the image taken by the Darklight Camera at the bridge. "This one is a bit more complicated, but the carriage shown is very likely the one that was washed off the bridge during the big storm at the end of September."
Miss Pau inhales sharply at the image. "Where did you get this?" she asks. "It is recent?"
"Not that recent, but it was made within a few days of the event itself," Herbert says. "Not everything shown need to have occurred at the same time, either. Did you feel anything unnatural about that storm?"
"The storm was unnatural," Miss Pau says. "Too sudden, too strong. Someone conjured it, but I didn't know why. Then." She traces the outline of the the carriage. "Now I know. This is the carriage of the Necromancer."
"Necromancer?" Shaft whispers in surprise. "As in.. raising the dead, and such?"
Miss Pau nods soberly. "I had heard he was killed in the 1849 Game. But perhaps to such as he, death is no great matter." She shudders, closing her eyes and shaking her head.
"This woman driving the coach," Shaft says, pointing to the driver. "I saw her searching the river the day this was image was taken. I have her buggy whip locked away - I suspected it was the Hammer of Thor, responsible for the storm. The white hart has been seen recently by a man who was searching the woods for Reverend Hale, and... I suspect one of these deer was actually the tattooed man whose body we washed up at the base of the lighthouse. Caliban had a vision of sorts, linking him to a deer and a pack of hunting dogs."
"The Hammer of Thor?" Miss Pau looks blank at this mention. She frowns as she looks at the picture of the woman, and she takes a closer look at the animals pulling the carriage in the picture.
"Have you encountered this Necromancer before?" Herbert asks, noting Pau's reference to an earlier Game. "What is his background?"
"I have not, but I heard of him. He was a Player in the 1830 and 1849 Games. I heard he had a female assistant, or friend ... perhaps this woman is her, and he did not cheat death after all. Or maybe my information is wrong and he was never dead." She sighs. "It is hard to trust these reports, over things done in secret without ceremony, where no one trusts anyone else. But these animals do not match the reports, either. I was told the Necromancer's carriage was pulled by skeletal horses, not deer."
"Oh.. they may well have been skeletal deer, actually," Shaft says. "The process used to make this photograph does not necessarily discriminate between physical and spiritual aspects of its subjects."
Miss Pau shivers again. "Then perhaps she is his pupil, or associate if he yet lives. What is this Hammer of Thor you mention?"
"An artifact with the power to create storms," Shaft says. "At least, a rumored artifact. It is also believed that can only be wielded by its true owner though.. in which case I doubt the whip is related. Still, it seemed best to keep it hidden."
"Ah. I do not know if this whip is connected or not. But I do know that whenever the Necromancer's carriage traveled, it brought with it terrible storms," Miss Pau explains.
"Well, that at least explains the storm," Shaft says. "It wasn't created to hinder the Necromancer's passage. Any thoughts on the wolves?"
"But it did, did it not? The storm caused the flood that swept the carriage from the bridge." Miss Pau looks at the pcture again, shaking her head. "And you say these harts may have been transformed men? What a terrible -- "
She stops, staring at the picture of the woman, her mouth open.
"What is it?" Herbert asks, staring at the image now to see what could have alarmed Miss Pau. "Oh, I suppose that woman leaning down to look at the flower is you, isn't it?"
Miss Pau gives an absent nod, still caught on her thought. "That woman," she says, pointing to the carriage driver. "She's Sarah St. John. She must be. And she's here."
"You know her?" Herbert asks.
"No. And I do not want to know her, and neither do you. She killed three people in the 1849 Game, the Necromancer among them. That is why his carriage is here. She must have taken it when she murdered him." Miss Pau shakes her head in dismay. "Perhaps that is why the storm washed it out; even the Nedcromancer's tools would not wish to serve her purposes. Oh, this is very bad news indeed."
"I take it then that.. uh.. I'm not sure how to take that, actually," Herbert says, quite honestly. "I don't have any information on who participated in previous Games, but I suppose your mentor or parents must have had first hand knowledge?"
"Research is possible, for those with the right sources," Miss Pau says, somewhat enigmatically. She looks as though she might say more, but just then Mrs. Stephenson and Mr. Hobson enter the wheelhouse.
"It's been lovely on this cruise with you, Mr. Shaft, and I do thank you for inviting us," Mrs. Stephenson says, looking apologetic. "But ... well ... it is rather late, and there's church tomorrow, and I shouldn't want to keep you up. Hadn't we best be getting back?"
"Oh my," Shaft says, looking at his watch. "I hadn't noticed.. I will turn us back to the dock immediately, of course," he promises, swiping the photo print off the chart table as he turns to the controls. He even turns on the arclight, since nobody will be stargazing now.
For the remainder of the voyage, Mrs. Stephenson and Mr. Hobson stay with their host, and there's no further opportunity to speak with Miss Pau alone. When the ship docks, the undertaker insists on accompanying the ladies back to their home.
"Thank you for escorting them, Mr. Hobson," Shaft says, giving the man a friendly clap on the shoulder. "I will be some time securing the Babbage yet, and I wouldn't want to keep Mrs. Stephenson and her guest waiting longer than I already have."
After several more goodbyes and heartfelt thanks -- Mr. Hobson seems especially grateful, possible as much for Mr. Shaft remaining with the houseboat while he walks Mrs. Stephenson home than for the invitation -- the others leave.
Herbert goes about securing the boat and the items he showed to Miss Pau, then heads for the boathouse, hoping Caliban didn't run into any problems..