AH-AHHH . . . CHOOO!
Henry sniffled and wiped his nose—again. He lay back onto his cot, having picked up a more-than-determined cold during their nine-day cross-Atlantic journey to France. He even went ahead and pinched the top of his nose to make sure the next sneeze in line didn’t get any ideas.
Fortunately, it was already the evening of day eight, and Henry was appreciating the fact that the rain had finally subsided.
Most of the trip on the SS Persévérance had been miserable. Besides Henry’s cold, the quarters were cramped, Ernie had been struggling with seasickness, and the near-constant rain made everything feel damp. The only thing all of them kept very much in mind was that there was just one more day to Le Havre. The front door to Paris.
The tickets they’d bought a week and a half ago were for down in the very cheapest part of the ship, where satin sheets definitely were not included. What they each got was a saggy cot and a thin, holey blanket.
What they also got was an uncle.
Uncle Seymour, to be exact.
Even in 1885, Henry had learned, four young ragamuffins couldn’t exactly just cross the Atlantic together. That was the bad news. The good news was that they didn’t need passports or anything else that might have slowed things down. All they needed was a tidy little sum of money and a willing traveler from Pennsylvania named Seymour Simonton to help get them on board.
They’d found Uncle Seymour on the dock, waiting to take the trip to France himself. Once the friendly transaction was finished, he’d told the ship purser that the five of them were family, and just like that, they were on board, heading down to “entrepont,” never to see their beloved uncle again.
“Entrepont” was what the French passengers called the “lowest of the low quarters,” which was where Henry had been for the past hour, hoping to speed up the remainder of the trip by getting some sleep.
He wasn’t having much luck, though.
Ever since that late Christmas Eve or early Christmas Day, just the thought of “time” had typically prompted him to reach into his pocket for the old piece of ledger paper. He pulled it out just now without thinking twice about it.
Skavenger’s written words were still inscribed right there up top, just as they had been from the first day.
To whoever has found this page from my
ledger: find me. There is a way back. Or
forward. But know this too-when the final
empty box of this sheet is full, so ends
your adventure. Whatever the date and
location, there you will stay. Forever.
Sincerely, Hunter S. Skavenger.
Henry turned over the front side of the ledger page, only to find there were just nine empty boxes left on the back.
Nine. That was it.
Now a keen student of what might persuade the ghostly lettering to steal another ledger box away from him, Henry was certain of one thing.
They had to win the hunt in Paris. If they didn’t, he would never get back home.
Henry figured they had, at most, one week left. One week to meet Skavenger face-to-face before the ledger page would be full and he’d be stuck in 1885 forever, haunted by the unthinkable pain his disappearance had brought to those he loved most.
“You awake, Babbitt?” he heard from the bunk across from him.
Jack had his hands folded behind his head as he stared at the bottom of the bunk just above him. That’s where Ernie was, apparently able to sleep from the sound of his snoring.
Mattie was probably outside, Henry guessed. She’d been hesitant to wander the ship at first, informing all of them that she’d never really learned how to swim, but after that many days breathing the stale air in entrepont, she’d decided a stroll on the deck was worth the risk.
“Babbitt?”
“Yep, I’m awake,” Henry finally answered.
“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. Maybe a little.”
“Me too,” Jack said, then waited a few more seconds before continuing. “So I’ve been thinkin’ about things a little bit. What do you think happens if we get over there and we solve this next clue? We’re one of only five, Babbitt. Five envelopes. What happens if we win this?”
Henry folded the ledger page and tucked it back in his pocket. “I don’t know,” he replied. “What about you? What do you think happens?”
“I don’t know either,” Jack answered, still keeping lazy watch on the low-hanging bunk springs above him.
Neither said anything for a while. Henry was content to listen to the sloshing sound against the dank green walls that separated him from a bazillion gallons of seawater.
It was strangely calming, actually. On the rare occasions when he’d strung together more than four or five hours of sleep, it was because he’d been soothed by the sound of the ocean.
“You still worried about us seein’ Doubt’s men again?” Jack’s sudden switch of subjects guaranteed that four or five hours would be a long shot tonight.
“Every minute I’m here,” Henry replied, somewhat embarrassed by the admission. He crossed his arms to hold off the shiver he knew would probably follow.
The SS Persévérance had a large and low belly—low enough that Henry felt he might be able to hide from Doubt’s men in the hold if he saw them on board. Each passing day, though, had convinced him that the baleful apparitions probably weren’t on board. They were likely on another ship somewhere ahead of them, maybe already in Paris. Mattie had told him she felt the same way, which explained why she’d gone up to the main deck four nights in a row.
Henry looked over to see if Jack had noticed the unsettled look on his face. Seemed as if he hadn’t, his eyes still gazing upward.
“Aw, to hell with those ghouls,” Jack muttered under his breath. “You and me? We’ll knock ’em around good if we see ’em, ain’t that right, Babbitt? We’re gonna win this thing!”
“I hope so,” Henry replied, sniffling his nose unconvincingly.
Got a ton ridin’ on that, Great-Great-Grandfather. And only nine ledger boxes left to do it in.
Jack finally turned his head to look at him. “I’m serious,” he said. “And it ain’t because of the money. That’s the last reason I’m doing all this. I don’t care how incalculable Skavenger’s reward is.”
Henry pushed himself up on his elbows, suddenly curious.
“Why are you doin’ it then?” he asked, a set of thumping waves outside keeping the answer at bay for the moment. Jack waited until the eastern Atlantic decided to take a break.
“Know how many people in my life have told me what I can’t do, Babbitt?” Jack’s voice trailed off for a second. “Not what I can do. What I can’t. Happens every day of my life.”
He spun around in a single motion and put his feet on the floor, leaning forward to make certain Henry heard what he had to say next.
“I mean, sure, I know I’ve gotten myself into a little trouble a few times. And I know there’s a chance I’m not goin’ anywhere in life, but the fact is, it’s a nuthin’ chance, ya ask me! I’m gonna make my own chance!” Jack nodded and pursed his lips. “I’m smart, I can do stuff. You’ve seen it!”
“I have seen it.” Henry sat up and put his feet on the floor as well, making sure Jack knew he was listening. “Might have felt it a couple times too, the way you grabbed my collar and all.”
Jack looked as if he might grab it again, until his old familiar grin broke through. “Wiseass,” he said.
Henry smiled, but didn’t say a word.
“It’s like you, Babbitt, right?” Jack continued. “You couldn’t even walk through Vanderbilt’s front door, and guess what? Ya did. Went to Jennings and you stood your ground with those two brothers. Till they had you thrown out, anyway. Point is, we’re doin’ pretty good, yeah?”
Henry nodded, more of a half nod, actually. The words caught him by surprise, especially considering the source.
Of all people, Jack really thinks I’m gettin’ somewhere . . . Wow.
“I want the same thing you do, pal.” Jack looked Henry straight in the eye. “Someone to say I did good, that I’m just as good as everybody else. I don’t want anybody to give me nothing, to hell with that. That’s for all those losers still back at the Dakota, right? Right?” With a devilish grin, he reached across and slapped his great-great-grandson’s knee.
“Right,” Henry answered. The two of them laughed quietly, but a laugh nonetheless.
Jack stood and snapped his suspenders. Then, as he had done more than a few times during their Atlantic crossing, he loudly announced to anyone who might care to hear, “I’m gonna go see if there’s a line at the head. Back in a minute.”
But before he could go too far—
“Hey, Jack?” Henry stopped him.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for saying what you did. About me doing good. It’s just that . . . ever since my father, y’know . . .”
Jack came back and sat down on Henry’s bunk, right next to him. The twelve-year-old wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up, until his great-great-grandfather spoke again a second later.
“Yeah. I do know,” Jack assured him. “Okay? You don’t have to say another word. Not about what happened, not about anything. Not unless ya want to.”
Henry wanted to. At least a little.
“I mean, I wasn’t there when it happened. I just heard how bad it was.” He tapped his forehead. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t seen it up here, though. I . . . I don’t think I can even remember what it feels like anymore. Me not bein’ . . . well . . .”
He held back saying the last word. Not wanting to. Not needing to say anything from the look aimed his way.
“Here’s the secret, pal,” Jack said with an affable smirk. “And I’m talkin’ to you here, all right?”
Henry nodded.
“Bad things happen sometimes, and there ain’t nuthin’ you can do about it.” He raised his eyebrows to make his point. “And if ya come through it okay? What reason do ya still got to be afraid of anything?”
Huh. Never thought about it that way. Almost . . .
“Step by step? That’s what you’re sayin’?” Henry asked.
“Long as you’re still takin’ steps, that’s my motto.” Jack winked as he stood back up, snapping one suspender and then the other.
“So . . . Lah Toooooor Eiffel, huh?” he asked, apparently ready to switch subjects. “That’s what the French call this towering vision thing of yours? Sure must be somethin’ to see.”
“That’s what I hear.” Henry nodded. “We’re gonna see it firsthand soon enough.”
Jack shook his head at the thought, then trundled off to take care of business with an appropriate, “Oui, oui, oui! Weee sure as heck will! And speaking of weeeeee.”
Henry smiled and quietly laughed, deciding that with Jack now wandering off to relieve himself, and Ernie snoring through his seasickness, it was a good time to slip up to the main deck to find Mattie. He wiped his nose again, and headed on up—which was always kind of an obstacle course. The ceilings were barely six feet from the floor and the hallways were as narrow as a tiny closet, which made passing anyone an interesting dance. Not to mention the occasional overhead pipes threatening to rap anyone over five foot seven right in the head—which meant it was no problem for Mattie.
She’d become fast friends with a young family of four from Marseilles, who now served as the usual reason for her to wander away from the stale air of the entrepont.
She barely knew a word of French, but it hadn’t mattered in the least. Mattie had a way with everyone, whether it was a nine-year-old girl from a far corner of France, a porter on a train to St. Louis . . . or Henry.
The steel stairs connecting the lower decks to the main level could be tricky when wet, he’d already learned from an unfortunate slip or two. They were dry tonight, though, and with a good chunk of the moon visible, going up the stairs was turning out to be problem free.
What was it Jack said? “Long as I’m still takin’ steps”?
Once on the top deck, he walked along the starboard right-side railing toward the spot where he usually found Mattie. Typically, she liked to sit against the ship’s very tallest smokestack, pointing out the stars to her new young friend Isabelle, who was all of seven years old.
The girls weren’t there tonight, though. On a ship that was more than five hundred feet long and carrying thirteen hundred passengers, he knew they could be anywhere.
Henry moved to the railing to peer at the splashing waves below. The swells broke against the ship’s hull, creating an enormous explosion of white foam and sea spray.
Just the sight of it was enough to bring a small smile to his face. Not only because it was spectacular, but because of where he was at that moment. What he was doing.
You’re on a real steamship! Crossing the Atlantic Ocean, headed for France! Check this out, Mom . . . you hold on to the rail tight . . . you lean out . . . annnnnnd . . . all good! Noooooo worries.
“Be careful, young man,” a menacing voice uttered from behind him, and Henry’s knees buckled as he whipped around.
No.
It was Grace.
The Dark Man.
Standing two feet away, close enough he could have thrown Henry over the rail without anyone ever knowing who’d done it. The man’s sunken blue eyes glinted coldly.
“I told you I’d be ssseeing you again . . . soooooon.” Grace raised a slender finger and pointed it threateningly as he moved closer still. “Tonight, though, is your lucky night, young man . . . for I actually have nothing to tell you. Nothing at all. Though ssssssomeone else does.”
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Henry knew in a horrifying instant what was making the sound and who was behind it. He knew because he’d heard it before.
It was a cane. A cane coming up the same metal stairwell he’d scaled only a moment ago, prompting his heart to skip a beat.
The cold hand just above the wolf’s head and its gold teeth was the first thing to come into view, with the worst most certainly yet to follow.
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Hiram Doubt’s terrible gray eyes slowly came into view. The thin scar running the path of a teardrop down his cheek. The scraggly, almost silver eyebrows that Henry hadn’t come close to forgetting.
Skavenger’s bitter rival stopped for a moment after reaching the dry, but scuffed, surface of the main deck. He ran the tip of his black dress shoe over the still-rain-swollen wooden floor, as if wanting to make sure he wouldn’t get a speck of dirt or water on it.
“Only one . . . more . . . day,” Doubt finally said as he strolled toward Henry, moving slightly closer than Grace. “One more day until Paris. I’m guessing you’d forgotten about me, yes?”
Yes. No! But . . .
Henry looked ready to run, but the Dark Man’s hand shot out fast as a snake, tightly grabbing hold of his collar.
“Ah-ah-ah.” Doubt shook his head. “Not before you and I have an important conversation, one that wasn’t necessary on the train to St. Louis . . . but is now.”
Jack’s words of encouragement now felt like a distant memory to Henry.
Somebody. Somebody, anybody, help!
But there was no one anywhere. Not just then, at least. Not in the isolated spot where Henry had mistakenly decided to watch the waves. It was just the three of them. And just as he’d done on the far side of the Vanderbilt Mansion, Doubt slowly raised his cane and let the teeth of the wolf’s head softly land on Henry’s nose.
“Now,” Doubt said with both calm and yet terrifying eyes. “I have, shall we say, a problem. A problem I did not anticipate having, but one that you might be able to help me with.”
Henry, now nearly choking with fear, looked from side to side for someone who might have just walked on deck. Hopefully. Anyone.
Doubt moved the wolf’s head over to Henry’s cheek and gently nudged it back so that he was looking at him, and him alone.
“Much better, thank you. As I was about to say,” he said with a chilling smile, “I have a confession that is, well, difficult for me to make. Ever since I asked Mark Twain to give me the clue that you now have as well, I’ve been . . . struggling somewhat with the answer. Aside from Paris, of course. So . . .”
No, no, no. Don’t—
Grace tightened his grip on Henry’s collar.
Doubt pulled back the head of his silver cane, then again tapped it gently on the young boy’s nose with each word that followed.
“What. Do. You. Know?”
The gloomy-eyed man uttered the words with a low voice, his cold gray eyes demanding an immediate reply.
Henry stammered, “I, what—”
“No I, no what,” Doubt interrupted. “You must have some thought, yes? A thought that convinced the four of you to board a ship bound all this way for France?”
I’m gonna have to say something! He won’t let me, I can’t . . .
Henry’s head was racing senselessly. “We don’t,” he tried to get the words out, “I mean, we’re not sure—”
“Stop,” Doubt cut him off, his jaw now tightening with simmering anger. “I asked you once, I will ask you only once more. What is it you expect to find in Paris?”
A young Frenchman passed by, spotting the three of them as he turned his head. “Est-ce que tout est correct?” The man wore a worried look as he asked if everything was okay.
“Tout est très bien. Retournez vers le bas ci-dessous,” replied Doubt. The cold look he delivered to the young Frenchman persuaded him to wheel around and run away.
Thump thump thump thump—gone.
Doubt turned his hard gaze back to Henry. “Well?” he asked him.
“We don’t . . . I . . . we . . . we don’t know yet!”
Grace tightened his grip on Henry’s collar and lifted him into the air, dangerously close to the railing’s highest bar, completely unconcerned with the young man’s efforts to wriggle free.
SAY SOMETHING. HE KNOWS THE CLUE. SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CLUE!
“We need to find the visionary,” Henry finally managed to gulp out. “We’re pretty sure he’s in Paris.”
For the shortest of moments, Hiram Doubt looked . . . disappointed.
“No, no, nooooooo,” he said, shaking his head. “I already know all of that. Tell me what else you know. Tell me everything you know. Who you believe the visionary is. What the vision is.”
Barely able to take a breath, his feet still inches off the deck, Henry somehow mustered the nerve to simply say . . .
“We don’t know yet, I promise! They got a lot of visionaries in France. The only thing we’re sure of is that it doesn’t make sense for Skavenger to bring the hunt back to New York yet.”
Please believe it. Please, please.
Doubt waited to see if Henry might choose to say anything more. Waited until he looked convinced that he wouldn’t.
“Brave boy,” he said menacingly, motioning for Grace to lower him back down. “Brave, but foolish . . . and very, very impractical. I think you know very well who the visionary is, as do I. I suspect it is the vision that confuses you . . . as it does me.”
Henry’s feet finally touched the deck again. He could feel the heat coming off Grace’s threatening breath.
Doubt softly rested his wolf-headed cane against his own shoulder. “We will be watching you and your friends every minute of every day,” he warned in a deadly whisper. “As we have been ever since you boarded this ship. And should the vision somehow become clear to you? I strongly urge you to let me know.”
He let the cane slide through his hand, strangling the wolf’s head as he grasped it at the neck.
“Safe travels, young adventurer,” the shadowy man said as he and Grace turned to disappear into the darkness. “Or as they say where we’re going: Voyage securise.”
But the only thing Henry heard was . . .
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Tap . . .
Like nails being hammered into the lid of a coffin.