Part XIII - Dangling from Infinity: The Misdirection of Ceasar Williams!
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Harold reappeared on the Titanic at the same time that Horatio appeared in his cabin on the Renown. It wasn't very fortunate for the Fifth Officer to be asleep when this switch around was made, for he was on the port side Officer's Promenade, and landing on the teak decking with a heavy thud was not the most pleasant way to wake up. Blinking a few times to ward off the shot of pain from the landing, along with the exhaustion, he quickly got to his feet. Immediately he knew where he was, and immediately he realized that he had better get into--
"Mr. Lowe?"
Damn. Harry turned in his tracks, trying to look perfectly alert, and regarded his Chief Officer. "Sir?"
Wilde took one look at the uniform and groaned, "Not again..." It was bad enough the night before, but to have this happen two nights in a row was just completely ridiculous. Shaking his head, the Chief rubbed his eyes. "All right, explain."
"Explain what, Chief?" Lowe asked, feigning innocence as well as he could.
"The uniform!" Henry cried, exasperated and frustrated far more than he normally was.
"Well, sir," Harold started, surprised by the normally cool and levelheaded senior officer's dismay, "I just happened to... well, I'm preparing for a play, and..."
"No," Wilde said, firmly, shaking his head avidly. "The real reason, please."
"The voices made me do it...? I don't know, sir, it might have been The--"
"Don't you dare say The Coffee," Henry growled, very much at the end of his rope. Transferred from the Olympic under duress, came into this assignment late, hasn't slept well since boarding, still has an eerie feeling about Titanic, and now... now he's facing the thought that his sanity might not be exactly as intact as he had always assumed it to be. Taking a deep breath, Wilde let it out slowly, commanding, "Stay right here. Don't even twitch."
"Aye, sir," Harold answered, frowning. He was in trouble now -- he couldn't disobey Wilde, but if he wasn't in his own uniform, who knows what could happen.
At that point, poor Henry didn't care. He walked back into the Officers Quarters resolutely, knocking on Murdoch's door hard enough to wake the Scot without much delay.
Will, shaken awake by the knock, blinked in the darkness in his room and switched his light on. "Yes? What is it?"
"Will, I need you on the Bridge," Henry said, through the door, and not caring one way or another who else he woke up. The more witnesses the better.
"Is everything all right?" Frowning, Murdoch pulled himself out of bed and immediately began getting dressed.
"Oh, besides me losing my bloody mind?" Wilde muttered to himself, not really loud enough to be heard. A little louder, he answered, "That's debatable."
A minute or two later, Will stepped out of his room, though his uniform wasn't exactly in prime condition due to the quick moment he stole to put it on. Just a door down, Lightoller stepped out of his cabin in just his trousers and an untucked white shirt. "Is there something the matter?" He asked, quietly.
"Lowe again," Wilde answered, walking back through the chartroom and out onto the Bridge, not looking back to see if anyone was following or not. Sure enough, Harold was right where he had left him, though he had moved. It was of no concern, though... he was still dressed to early 19th century standards.
Raising an eyebrow, Murdoch looked over the Fifth Officer and walked around him once. "No extra hair tonight, Mr. Lowe?"
"No, sir," Harry answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Apparently Horatio had appeared in the same way, and he could suddenly appreciate why Wilde seemed so damned unsettled by the garb.
"Care to explain the uniform then, Mr. Lowe? I thought for sure, judging by the log, that you had been warned about it," Lightoller commented, somewhat lightly.
"Well," Lowe tried to explain, flustered, "I'm afraid I didn't turn my light on when I dressed for watch, sir, and must have grabbed the wrong one."
"Terribly neat for dressing in the dark," Henry nearly snapped, but managed just barely to keep that edge from his voice.
"Well-practiced?" Harold asked, lamely. He was in way over his head, now, and he prayed quickly in the back of his mind for some sort of salvation before this got too far out of hand.
Murdoch shook his head at the excuse. "What's your fascination with this uniform of yours, Mr. Lowe? If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were dressing up for the passengers and performing for them." The First Officer couldn't help but laugh.
Just inside the Bridge, having been awakened by Henry's somewhat boisterous knock, Archie stood, peeking just beyond the edge of the Bridge in an attempt to see what was happening. He had been quiet getting there, and was amazed how the quartermaster paid him no mind.
"Well, I tried to tell Mr. Wilde that I was practicing for a play..." Harold said, aiming for cheerful and lighthearted, and cringing slightly under the annoyed glare the Chief gave him.
Lightoller rubbed his eyes, thinking he would have much rather been sleeping in his own warm bed than standing on deck, quibbling with a junior. "And what role would you be playing?"
"Why, Horatio Hornblower, sir," Harold answered, as naturally as he could. It was the first thought that came to his mind, and he hoped it would work. "Before he became an admiral."
Letting out a bit of a chuckle, Kennedy had to bite his tongue not to continue, and wincing slightly, he quietly tried to tiptoe back towards the small room he had woken up in.
Harold bit his lip, hoping that no one noticed that, without much actual hope. Wilde, however, did notice -- there wasn't much that passed him by, and he scowled at the snicker, walking onto the Bridge and eyeing Kennedy's shadowy and retreating figure. "Stop. Now."
Catching himself in mid-step, Archie winced and put his foot down, not turning. Taking a deep breath, he was sure that he could almost feel the tightening of the noose around his neck.
"Out here," Henry commanded, trying for everything he was worth to see who it was. It sure wasn't Moody or Boxhall... both of them were taller, and it wasn't Pitman, who was thinner.
Slowly turning at the short, clipped commands, the young Fourth Lieutenant swallowed and seemingly did his best to shrink down to nothing in front of the large Chief. Henry, however, seeing the uniform, seemed to go visibly pale at the near perfect copy of Harold's. Simply pointing in the direction that the other officers were, he knotted his jaw and waited until Archie shuffled past and out onto the deck.
Shooting Lowe an apologetic glance, Kennedy then moved to stand beside him as Henry returned to his own place next to Will and Charles. "Who are you?" he asked, exasperated.
Grinning brightly, and putting on all the charm he could muster, Archie replied, "My name is Caesar Williams, sir. Lieutenant Archie Kennedy in the same play that Mr. Lowe here is acting in."
Trying his best not to strangle both men, Henry just closed his eyes and let the other two officers question the men. "Is that so, Mr. Williams?" Murdoch asked, raising an eyebrow at the younger man.
"Quite," was the pert answer.
Lowe, upon hearing Archie's replies, wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or just throw himself over the side of the ship. Would the seniors really believe such things, or would they both be sitting in the Master-at-Arms office for the rest of the trip?
Lightoller couldn't help but smirk at the whole situation. "What an unfortunate thing for you, sir."
Nearly puffing up his chest in defense of himself, Kennedy set his jaw, but then let the moment fade, and smiled once again. "Not so, sir. In fact, Mr. Kennedy is quite a character to play, and certainly doing so has brought the women running." Sure, he was ringing his own bells, but it was for his and Harry's sake, right?
Trying not to groan, the Fifth Officer had to bite back the urge to elbow "Caesar" in the ribs. If there were any graves at sea, Harry was sure that Archie would have dug both of theirs in an instant, but he also thought that perhaps the plan might have worked. Afterall, what story is still hard to accept with another witness close by?
"Let me get this straight," Henry said, leaning on the railing with his eyes still closed and his head tilted back. "You two are in a play about Hornblower, so you prance around in these 19th century uniforms in the wee hours of the morning to prepare for the part?"
"Basically, sir," Lowe answered, smiling as well as he could, given the circumstances.
"Mr. Lightoller, would you be so kind as to get the passenger manifest?" Wilde asked, the very picture of polite, as he looked over at Lights finally.
Charles managed not to groan at the assignment, because he was tired enough that he was willing to accept the explanation without a thought, but even as he thought of that warm bed, he had to admit to curiosity. Nodding, he looked back at Wilde, "Right away, sir."
"Thank you." Henry closed his eyes again. This seemed to be getting more and more insane by the minute... certainly not a situation for a man who's main strengths were not metaphysical, but practical.
Harold fought the urge to wince as Lightoller strolled onto the Bridge, and presumably back to the chartroom, where a copy of the passenger list was kept. He sincerely hoped that there would be a Caesar Williams, though he doubted it, or that Archie would be able to work around it. The younger man seemed to be doing good so far, and Lowe allowed himself a small smile at that -- clever little bugger, he was. He just hoped he would be clever enough.
As Lightoller stepped back out onto the deck with the list, Archie shifted somewhat uncomfortably. Damn him for not picking a more common name. The Second Officer began flipping through the pages, slowly. "No..." He paused a moment. "No, and no."
"Well, Mr. Williams, it seems you don't exist." Murdoch smiled at the younger man.
"Care to try again?" Wilde asked, raising an eyebrow.
Laughing lightly, Kennedy did his best to remain nonchalant. "Well, no, you wouldn't find that one, would you? No, I believe the ticket was signed by my lady back home under the name of C. McMann."
Once again, Lights went through the list, checking all classes and all possible spellings before looking up. "No."
"John Smith?" Archie tried. He couldn't go wrong with that one... he just couldn't.
Lowe fought down a grin. Well, at least that was a common enough name that it might be on the passenger manifest.
Sure enough, Lightoller looked back up with a pleasant smile. "Well, we do have a J. Smyth in third class..."
"Well, there you go, sir," Kennedy said, feeling the amazing sense of relief. That is, until Lightoller's next words sounded, and then that feeling rapidly vanished.
"A Miss Julia Smyth."
"What? Can't a woman play a man's part...?" Kennedy visibly winced.
Henry laughed, weakly, completely and utterly distraught by the entire affair so far. He was a patient man, a quiet man, but this was starting to grate on his last nerve. Taking a deep breath, he very calmly took Archie by the collar and dragged him to the railing, holding the younger man hard enough to keep him from escaping, but not hard enough to hurt him. Dropping his voice to a near whisper, he ignored the worried looks he received from Charles and Will, "All right. Now, before I completely lose my patience, you're going to tell me who you are."
"Er, Henry..." Will started, but was silenced by a quick and very sharp look from the superior. He frowned, staying back with Lights, and took Lowe by the arm when he made to go to Kennedy's assistance. "Stay were you are, Mr. Lowe."
"But--!"
"Stay," Charles commanded, in a no-nonsense voice, ready to intervene.
Putting his hands on the rail and gripping it tightly, Archie swallowed. "S-sir, I don't think this is w-wise..."
"Your name." Wilde said, still quite calm -- he was an old school sailor, from the days of harder discipline.
Looking down at the water nervously, Kennedy nodded and tried to lean back some. "Archie Kennedy, sir, Archie Kennedy for God's sake!"
"You look well for a man over a hundred who happens to be dead."
Will and Charles exchanged a glance, both of them coming to the same conclusion. Whoever this was, he wasn't right in the head.
Wilde's jaw knotted momentarily before he finally let Kennedy loose from where he had been staring down at the churning swells of the Atlantic. "This is rapidly getting old."
"He is Archie Kennedy, sir," Lowe finally broke in, a bit pale from the exchange and hoping to actually convince them of the truth now that all chances for a story had been blown out of the water.
Murdoch looked over at the Fifth Officer with a sigh, "Not you too, Mr. Lowe. Come now, gentlemen, the truth."
"It is the truth," Kennedy proclaimed, not thrilled with the fact that he was so close to death. Visibly shaking from either cold or subsiding fear, he looked at the three seniors. "I'm Archie Kennedy, Fourth Lieutenant of the H.M.S. Renown under the command of Captain James Sawyer. If you don't believe me, I can show you my commission at this moment."
"By all means," Lights said, taking some pity on the boy. Insane or not, being threatened even obscurely with an impromptu swim had to have been terrifying.
Digging into his inside pocket, Archie first pulled out two small books, then a pen, and finally a metal box that looked much like a cigarette case; small and thin. Opening up the metal container, he took out a folded piece of paper and offered in to Murdoch, who happened to be standing closest to him.
Taking the paper and feeling almost like the impartial third party, Will then passed it to Wilde. "Why don't you have a look, Henry?"
Henry took the paper, squinting in the low lighting of a slowly approaching dawn. Without a word, he read it and passed it to Lightoller.
Carefully retrieving the certificate and looking at it in the same fashion, Charles raised an eyebrow and leaned towards Will to show him, whispering, "Looks genuine, but..."
"How can we be completely sure?" Looking over at Wilde with somewhat of a questioning look, Murdoch then took the yellowed paper into his own hands, gently.
"We can't be. It could be a nice reproduction, or it could have been the real Mr. Kennedy's commission and somehow gotten by this chap." Wilde shook his head. "All right, gentlemen, let's imagine for a moment that you're telling the truth. How exactly did all of this happen?"
Lowe took the opportunity to speak up, perhaps to draw their attention away from Archie for a moment or two. "Well, it's rather hard to explain, sirs..."
"Try, Mr. Lowe," Charles sighed.
A deep breath later, Harry tried to make sense of the entire thing, so that it might make sense to the senior officers. "Two days ago, Mr. Moody and myself somehow appeared in Liverpool, in the past, we think. Well, I think it was two days ago... morning of the eleventh."
"This is the morning of the twelfth," Wilde supplied, helpfully but certainly with a bit of an edge on his voice.
"In that case, for you it was a day ago, for myself and Mr. Moody, it was a few days ago."
"I'm confused," Will said, looking indeed very confused and baffled.
"What he's trying to say," Kennedy broke in, "is that himself and Mr. Moody found themselves on shore when they should have been here on Titanic. The same happened to myself and Mr. Hornblower--"
Smirking in his usual jovial sense, Murdoch offered the commission back as he interrupted. "The Horatio Hornblower, eh? Does he look as well as you do after a hundred years?"
Carefully taking the paper back as if it were priceless (and in truth, it was), Archie began to fold it back into its neat little form. "Sir, you see, it isn't 1912 from where I come from. It was 1801 and we were only a few days out from port on our way to some place that the Admiralty saw fit to send us. Which, judging from what James told me," he paused, "Mr. Moody, that is, but from what I could gather from him, the ship was heading for Santo Domingo."
"How unfortunate for you, then, Mr. Kennedy," Lights chimed in, having a hard time believing that there was anything more than a well-versed and well-read actor standing in front of him.
Archie seemed to pale slightly when thinking about the moment he had learned of his death, and he nodded, replacing his prized objects back into his pocket. "Yes, sir, trust in me that it is with great fear that I concede to that thought."
It was the paling that first touched on Lightoller's mind and worked it's way into the back to brew. As insane as this entire charade sounded, for a moment he actually did think that there was the possibility... that this could well be Archie Kennedy, and that Horatio Hornblower himself had been there previous. Immediately, he pushed the notion away; it didn't, however, leave his mind.
Murdoch raised an eyebrow, glancing to Lightoller before once again considering the two wayward travelers. "You two really want us to believe this?"
Harold and Archie nodded in perfect unison, and the older of the two ventured to add, "I know it's a stretch..."
"Putting it mildly," Wilde commented, in a low mutter.
"People don't just appear years and years after they've died," Will added, gently.
"Well, no, of course they don't," Harold said, drawing himself up with squared shoulders. "But then, normally people don't likewise end up traveling backwards in time, then forwards, then backwards again, then forwards to now, to try to explain something they don't understand to people who likely wouldn't believe them anyway."
Lightoller frowned, leaning back on the railing. "I think you've lost us."
Kennedy couldn't help but smirk. "I think you've nearly lost me now," he commented, than paced a bit. "There must be some way we can convince you beyond a doubt..."
Murdoch thought a moment, trying to contemplate how he could resolve this situation, and was just about to say something when Henry beat him to it. The senior most officer tapped on the railing a moment, absently. "All right. I know that somewhere on this ship there has to be a copy of Hornblower's memoirs..."
"I have one at home, but..." Lights shrugged. "I doubt I brought it with me."
Archie nodded and stood against the rail, crossing his arms. "Fine, yes... test me."
Will smiled, not too far from his usual charming look. "We intend to, if Mr. Lightoller would be so good as to look for the book. If he doesn't have it, then I fear we may have to arrest you."
Charles looked between the troop of them, then nodded and walked off for his cabin. He usually took a few books with him on any voyage, simply to read when he was sitting with his pipe, and he did hope he had this one. Honestly, he was finding himself wanting to believe the lads on deck, though he still tried to reason that there was no way this could be.
Lowe watched him walk off, nodding slightly to himself and rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Once this was resolved, he could certainly use a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.
Kennedy moved over next to Lowe, back turned to the others, and whispered lightly to his companion, "What if he doesn't have the book?"
The Welshman looked past Archie for a moment, at Murdoch and Wilde, who were in the midst of their own quiet discussion. Uncertainty crossed his face as he looked back at Kennedy. "I'm not sure. Play it by ear, I suppose, and maybe it'll all turn out right." A nod was the only response given as the younger man waited nervously, and Harold shook his head, tone low and somewhat reassuring, "It'll be all right. One way or another."
"I'm sure it will be. They can't kill me, afterall."
Of course, any further discussion was forestalled by Charles Lightoller, stepping out with a very shocked look on his face as he looked Lowe over, then at the book in hand. He must have grabbed it, and though it never even crossed his mind before, the portrait of Horatio on the cover was shockingly similar to the Fifth Officer. A little older, maybe... Hornblower was a Captain when it was painted, but aside from the age and the fact that it was an engraved print, there was no mistaking the resemblance.
Raising both eyebrows, Kennedy watched the Second Officer's reaction before looking between all of the seniors.
"How...?" Lights asked, which was about all he could manage.
Wilde moved over, looking at the book. A moment passed while his tired mind processed this, and he glanced between Lowe and the cover before shaking his head. 'That's... uncanny."
Will moved to the other side of Lightoller, looking over the cover then looking up at Harold. "More than uncanny, I'd say..."
"Downright unnerving?" Harry offered, smiling sweetly and perhaps a bit irritably. "Try being me, and coming face to face with him."
Charles shook his head again, flipping through the book for a side profile portrait, and after a moment or two walked around Lowe, eyeing first him, then the book. That ponytail of Hornblower's certainly came to mind then, as he thought about the day before, and all he could say then was, "Well."
The thought donned on the First Officer not a moment later and he gestured the other seniors away from Harold and Archie. As they stepped over to him, he crossed his arms. "Are either of you feeling just a bit worried?"
A trace of a smile crossed Henry's face as he replied, wryly, "Worried? Will, your talent for understatement never ceases to amaze me."
"What if it is...?" Lights almost spoke over the Chief, unable to even keep that thought quiet. He had seen some sights in his time, but this was something completely new.
"If it is," Will joked, "then I have a feeling we'll all be in deep trouble if someone finds out we just made Admiral Hornblower cut his hair."
This pulled a laugh from Wilde. "If it's true, I think we've got bigger things to worry about than a tail."
Lightoller looked at the book. There weren't any pictures of Archie Kennedy, but Hornblower had given a brief description, and it was on the letter. Frowning slightly at the dilemma, he looked back at the other two. "So what do we do?"
"I suggest we ask him the questions," Will offered, turning to the other two.
Nodding resolutely, Lights looked at Archie. "All right... we can't deny there's something odd going on, but it still doesn't necessarily mean that this story's accurate. So--"
Lowe took the book, suddenly getting an odd thought... he ignored the glare he got from all three seniors, thumbing through the pages as he muttered aside to Archie, "Do you think that there might be some mention of this in here?"
"It's possible. Do you think he would mention something like that and jeopardize his sanity in the eyes of others, though?" The younger man skimmed the pages, quickly, looking for some trace of the situation.
"Not him, no... but some obscure reference, maybe. Some mention, perhaps, or something of the sort."
"What are you doing?" Lightoller asked, getting towards the end of his rope now himself.
"Looking for something," Lowe replied, offhand, going back to the index to search. Damn hard with so little light, but he had sharp eyes.
Kennedy sighed, frustrated, and looked up, "He would have to write his life story, word for word, wouldn't he?"
"Long winded bastard," Harry agreed, darkly. Finally he went back to the cover and was just about to give up and return the book when something crossed his eye. There, on the inside front cover, were his acknowledgments... and there, in that tiny print, nestled among thank you's to his friends and family were the names. Archie Kennedy, Lt., Harold Lowe, Lt. RNR, James Moody, Lt. RNR. "That's it!"
Grinning, Kennedy took the book and offered it to Wilde, satisfied as he pointed at their names among the full page of names. "See that?"
"Good God..." was all Wilde cared to offer, as he took the book from Archie, stepping back a pace or two and looking at them, then the other two seniors. More than a touch shocked, he handed the book to Will, then retreated to the railing to look over the ocean and try to come to some understanding of this.
Clearing his throat, Murdoch offered the book back to Charles. "Gentleman, I think that I might retire now... in lieu that this might be some odd dream."
Lightoller took the book, shaking his head as he read the names. Well, there was no disputing that, and no way that they could have somehow added those names to that book... it had been in print for decades. "I... good idea, Mr. Murdoch."
"So," Henry said, slowly and deliberately, "where's Mr. Moody?"
"With Mr. Hornblower," Kennedy answered, grinning. "In 1801."
Taking a deep breath, the senior looked at Archie for the first time with some sort of kindness, smiling a wry half-smile. "All right, lads. I don't have a damn clue what's going on, but we're short a Sixth Officer until he returns... God willing, that'll be soon."
"I'd be happy to take over his position until then," Archie offered, relaxing when the much larger man finally did.
Lowe likewise relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "We could find him a uniform, sir... and I'll stick with him until he's settled in, or until Mr. Moody returns."
"You do that. Mr. Lightoller, see about the uniform, if you could." Wilde ordered, basically accepting this for now. Maybe later he'd worry, but right now duty called.
"Aye, sir." Lights nodded, putting aside the idea of bed. He wasn't too far off from his watch anyway.
Satisfied, Will nodded and moved off towards his quarters, while Archie looked to Lowe. "Aren't we lucky he remembered us?"
"Definitely," Harry answered, with an avid nod. He resolved himself that he had yet another watch without sleep, and looked at Wilde as Lightoller headed off to scrounge up a uniform that might fit.
Henry took another deep breath. "Mr. Kennedy, you're on watch. Mr. Lowe, go get some sleep, you look like the dead...he can stay with me until you're back on, and then you can worry about the tour."
"I..." Harold started, not wanting to leave Archie in that situation.
"Go on," Kennedy assured, "I'll be all right."
Too worn out to really put up much of an argument in comparison to normal, Lowe offered an informal salute. "Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Wilde."
"Good night," Wilde answered, moving back onto the Bridge. It was going to be a long day.