The next morning Gabriel woke long before sunrise. In the complete darkness of his room, the inner sanctum of the Vatican, he rose, bathed, and dressed. The few things he would need for this journey – clothes and a wide variety of weapons – were safely packed in a deceptively small, inconspicuous bag.
Lighting a candle, he gathered his things and left the room, not bothering to secure it. Few people knew of this refuge within the Vatican, but should the need arise, Gabriel would rather that it was available to them, instead of locked and barred.
Making his way through the corridors, he passed through roundabout halls and made turns that brought him, more or less directly, to the friars' quarters. Quietly, knowing that most of the friars would still be abed for at least two more hours, he knocked on the door.
As expected, there was no answer, and the hunter smiled, turned the knob, and opened the door.
"Wake up, Carl. Carl, wake up!"
"M'awake," the inventor muttered, turning his face into the pillow to escape the candle-light brightening the room.
"No, you're not." Gabriel held back a smile.
"You're right. I lied. Go away, Van Helsing. It can't be tomorrow yet."
"Oh, it's been tomorrow for the past three hours."
A tortured groan, somewhat muffled by feathers and cloth, greeted this statement. Carl pulled the blanket up over his head, blocking out the light.
Gabriel looked around the small room, and saw the neatly packed bag sitting near the door. After moving it out into the hallway, he returned to stand over the bed, looking down at the lump that had, yesterday, been a reasonable man. A snarl greeted his tug on the covers. "Go bother someone else," Carl whined piteously.
Van Helsing grinned outright. "Where would the fun be in that?"
Grumbling, Carl conceded defeat and opened his eyes. Tottering out of bed and ushering Gabriel out of the room, the friar washed and dressed. Surprised at how much more human he felt, he joined the hunter in the hall and the two made their way to Lamar's quarters, in a separate hallway. The middle-eastern man was already awake, waiting outside his door with his things and prepared to depart.
The three men moved to the kitchen and ate breakfast in uneasy silence, generously served by one of the night-cooks who kept especially extreme hours for just such situations. Gabriel covertly studied Lamar as they ate hot porridge and bread, washed down with chilled juice and water.
Lamar was of a height with Carl despite being just over thirty. He was slender in stature, with dark eyes and hair, his skin lightly browned from both heritage and sun. He had come from Jerusalem nearly ten years ago, and worked in several fields. Like many of the Order, he had a wide range of skills, more so than most because he was not especially proficient in any area.
When Gabriel had informed Jinette the night before, the older man had cautioned him not to overlook Lamar's usefulness. The cardinal had told him that he believed Lamar was knowledgeable and skilled in so many different areas because the man was searching for something. An internal struggle distracted him from dedicating himself to any one area. Looking at the Jerusalemite now, Gabriel agreed, and saw something deeper. Whatever it was that Lamar struggled with, he had been wrestling with for some time. It was a personal quest which held him back, not intelligence or lack of competence.
Tucking his thoughts away, Gabriel pushed aside his empty dish and quietly thanked the cook. Waiting patiently for the others to finish, he remained silent, preferring to let the morning solitude color the pre-dawn hush.
Carl, however, felt no such need. "What's the name of this ship, anyway?" he asked.
Gabriel sat back, shifting uncomfortably. The bench he sat on was pushed against the wall, and the entire space was cramped. Regardless, it had direct lines of sight to both doors leading into the kitchen, which was why he had chosen it. "The Oaklands, leaving from the Port of Civitavecchia. She's due to depart at ten."
"How far will she take us?" Lamar had a slight accent, only truly notable in the preciseness of his speech.
"It's a twelve-day journey to Liverpool. There, we're due to catch the SS Philadelphia, which will bring us to Boston in six days. From there, it's a two-day walk to Boxborough. If the weather holds, we should be there no later than the fifth of March."
"How long will it take us to get to Civitavecchia from here?" Carl asked around a yawn.
"It's seventy kilometers from here. Are you ready to go?" Gabriel eased his way out from behind the table, quietly grateful to be able to stretch his legs. Lamar pushed up from the bench, and Carl joined the two after gratefully receiving a pack of food the cook had been preparing for them as they ate.
The three men proceeded out of the Vatican, making their way towards the stables located just outside the west wall of the Holy City. They walked in silence, Gabriel and Lamar out of indifference to such, and Carl from latent exhaustion. Once they reached the stables, a groom accompanied them on the long journey to Civitavecchia, simply so the horses could be returned to the stables by the day's end.
The journey took most of the six hours Gabriel had allotted for it, leaving them with just enough time to board the HM Bark Oaklands before she set to sea. Besides the three, inconspicuous members of the Order, Oaklands carried a crew of seventy-three and two- hundred twenty-four passengers. The three-masted steel barque was an impressive sight, with members of the crew scurrying through the rigging, readying the ship to get underway.
Gabriel, Carl and Lamar barely had time to stow their belongings below decks before the vessel's motion indicated that the engines had started, and the HM Bark Oaklands was underway.
On the fifth day of the journey, Carl decided that he'd had quite enough of nautical life to last him for several years. He was unable to understand the pleasure Gabriel took in the open sea, and found himself unwittingly drawn more and more into conversation with Lamar. Despite the disparity in their ages, the two men were able to find common ground, Lamar through his experience in many fields and Carl through his innate curiosity. They amiably debated many topics from the efficiency of electricity to the usefulness of blinders on horses, much to the amusement of both nearby passengers and crew. By the ninth day of the journey, Gabriel would move closer instead of heading in the opposite direction when he saw the telltale signs of an impending argument. The hunter remained a silent listener, however, until he felt the need to bring the argument to a close. Then, he would unknowingly startle Lamar with his practical compromises between the two very different points of view being put forth by each of the scientists.
When they made port in Liverpool early on the morning of February twenty-fifth, the three men were comfortable in each others' presence, their interaction markedly different from the stilted group which had departed the Vatican.
"The Philadelphia is a steam ship," Lamar explained as they disembarked from the Oaklands. "She was built in Glasgow, last year, and is the first twin-screw steamship ever built."
"Very fast," Gabriel murmured, following the Jerusalemite down the gang-plank.
"Her first voyage, Liverpool to New York City, was under a week!" Carl enthused, at the head of the line. His eyes gleamed at the prospect of getting a better understanding of the newest technology available, even if it was nautical.
Once directed to the proper dock, it took the three men little time to find the Philadelphia, which was an impressive sight. The ship sported three funnels in addition to three masts, which were rigged for sail. "Would you look at that!" Carl gaped at the magnificent vessel, oblivious to Lamar's open amusement at his astonishment. The smaller man's white teeth flashed, as he amiably steered Carl around stacks of crates waiting to be loaded.
Gabriel followed behind, digging into his pocket and producing their tickets, marking them among the thousand third-class passengers of the Philadelphia, which also boasted five-hundred and forty first-class seatings, and two hundred in second-class. They were some of the last people to arrive onboard. As the ship was preparing to depart at five in the evening, most passengers had arrived after the noon meal.
Lamar shivered as they ascended to the top decks. Their journey northward had brought them further from the warmer Mediterranean climes to which he was accustomed. It became more bearable as they made their way belowdecks to the bowels of the ship, reserved for those traveling with the most limited budget.
"You'd think, that with everything all told, they'd give us something better than steerage," Carl moaned, as they managed to locate three open berths relatively near to one another. They had moved to the fore of the ship, near the crew's quarters, as that area was designated for single men. While there were rooms available to those who traveled steerage, those were usually reserved for families or the elderly. The remaining space was portioned out by gender and marital status. Single women were aft, separated from the single men by the married couples. Given the probable length of the journey, Gabriel hadn't objected to the sleeping arrangements.
"The idea is to avoid attracting attention," he gently jibed. The chances of that were significantly reduced simply from the oddity of their group. Carl could not successfully pretend to be anything other than what he was. His first attempt at doing so had failed miserably; the young man was an awful liar. While Gabriel and Lamar could pass as laborers, the latter's ethnicity would draw notice simply because of the majority in their port of call and amongst the passengers. "The ship's manifest is more precise about the identity of the first and second-class passengers than those in steerage."
Lamar was no happier about the arrangements than Carl, but he reluctantly conceded to the hunter's logic.
"At least we'll be able to spend most of the time above decks, then." Carl was determined to find some good in the situation.
"Perhaps not," Lamar interjected, remembering the icy chill in the air. This far north, winter would not yield its grip on the land for another two months at least.
After stowing their belongings, the three men joined most of their fellow passengers, braving the cold to stand out on deck and watch as tugboats coaxed the Philadelphia into the open sea. The arduous process took nearly half an hour, and by the time she reached a speed of fifteen knots, full dark had fallen and the ship was illuminated fore to aft.
Returning belowdecks, they found that messes were being designated by sleeping arrangements. Those in steerage didn't eat in the upper class dining halls – instead, their food would be cooked in the central galley, with each messes' stores kept and cooked separately. Lamar and Gabriel were in the same mess, while Carl was assigned to a different one.
The two members of the Order found the first night on board the Philadelphia much different to their time on Oaklands. She was larger, and had more passengers, contributing to a more cramped feeling belowdecks. The noise of several hundred other people attempting to sleep, all in a limited space, was somewhat perturbing to the friar. He noticed with grumpy ill-humor that the hunter, however, was sleeping quietly two bunks away.
Lamar was bunked not far from where an older man was horribly seasick, and the night passed uncomfortably for the thirty- year old. He greeted the morning and the fresh air on deck with an enthusiasm matched only by Carl, despite the rampant chill. Gabriel was also relieved to leave behind the hot, rancid air of steerage.
A crisp, cold wind blew his hair back from his forehead, and the hunter took a great breath, relishing the sea-salt he tasted on the air. The sun shone brightly, the few clouds moving swiftly across the expanse of sky. "Six days," a gloomy voice caught his attention. "Six more nights . . . of that."
"Thank Allah that steam has shortened the journey," Lamar grimly replied. "Twenty years ago, this trip would take over two weeks."
Carl looked green at the thought, and the hunter quirked a smile, patting his friend on the back as he approached them.
"How was breakfast?" he asked, in an attempt to change the subject.
"I became reacquainted with the wonders of hardtack," Carl snapped, leaning against the rail and peering out over the waves. He had clearly had his fill of sea travel.
"Reacquainted?" Gabriel asked. The Oaklands had not been filled to capacity, and so had taken on more fresh foods to make the journey easier. And while they had been in steerage on that portion of their journey as well, they had had more room. The scale of the Philadelphia, however, and the amount of people crammed into steerage, was unwholesomely overwhelming.
Carl nodded in answer. "I traveled by ship to the Vatican when I was a child."
"From?" Lamar prodded, his interest roused. The small man kept his eyes on the spray shooting up from where the prow was carving a path through the deeps. White foam boiled out from the ship's dark sides, leaving a wide wake trailing behind.
"America," Carl responded, a note of wistful longing in his voice.
Gabriel was surprised. Carl had been in the Vatican for longer than he, and the hunter had simply assumed that Carl was from a relatively nearby area. "So you're going home for the first time in years," he mused, curling his fingers into fists to keep them warm. He had left his trenchcoat below, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself.
"Not quite," Carl answered dryly. "My family lives in New Jersey."
None of the men said anything for several moments, shedding the feeling of confinement that lingered from spending the night below. Lamar was the first to begin shivering, the one out of the three of them who was most unused to cold weather. "Now where do we go?" he managed, around chattering teeth. Most of the better parts of the ship were reserved for the upper-class passengers. Most of the passengers departing for America were immigrants, many English. The caste system was expected to remain firmly in place within the ship and throughout the voyage, and so there were few places the group would be able to take refuge from both the cold and the sleeping quarters that would not bring forth protests from other passengers.
Gabriel shrugged. "Let's go find out," he suggested.
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Please forgive my obvious lack of nautical knowledge. I will confess – Moby Dick is the only assigned school reading book I ever failed to finish, and after getting to 131 out of 135 chapters, it is the only one I ever threw up a staircase. Repeatedly.
Disclaimer: The Oaklands, a 3-masted steel barque, did exist. Built in 1876, in 1877 she traveled with 338 passengers (increased to 346 through the journey) from Plymouth to Adelaide. I could find out nothing else about her, besides a picture, and so hijacked her and turned her into a HMS, since I could not find to prefix descriptor for her. I used the HMS Bark Endeavor as a model for nautical terms (Wikipedia is my savior), but had to play with the number of passengers. Endeavor was smaller, and had only 94, so I averaged.
The Philadelphia is a real ship. The info I gave about her is all true, with the exception of the fact that her maiden voyage was to NYC in April of 1889. For being the first twin-screwed steamship (which I assume means 2 underwater propellers), nobody was apparently interested in catching her on canvas, so I couldn't find a picture. But her description hinted at a varied life, wherein she had several names, before being scrapped in 1923. For any links, leave me an email and I'll send them to you.