James Palmer - Shadows Through Time

Burton regarded this as poppycock, of course, and was angered at Speke’s presumption at arriving in England far ahead of Burton and proudly proclaiming the Nile source debate settled and done.

Then, before Burton had a chance to debate Speke’s findings, the old fool went and got himself shot.

Burton could find no logical bridge by which to bring up the matter of the strange woman and her eerie invitation, so he consulted his pocket watch.

Quarter past eleven. Midnight was getting nearer. If he was going to make it in time, he’d best go now.

Should he go? The proposition was silly on the face of it. A mysterious woman shows up and hints at a way of gleaning the secrets buried beneath the limitless waves of the deepest oceans, and asks him for his help. But only if he’ll meet her at midnight in an unwholesome part of the city. If anyone met him there at that hour, it would in all likelihood be a cutpurse ready to unburden him of his valuables. No thanks. He had other matters that needed his attention. He was home now, after years of wandering, exploring. And he was going to marry Isabel Arundel, if she would still have him.

But as the evening went on, Burton found himself growing restless. He couldn’t get Elizabeth Marsh, and the compelling mystery she represented, out of his mind. He drained his brandy. Thomas Bendyshe came around to refill it; Burton refused. James Hunt barked drunken laughter at one of Swinburne’s bawdy lines of verse the poet had composed on the spot. Burton heaved himself up out of the armchair, lest he become permanently affixed to it and, choosing his steps with care, made for the door.

“Leaving so soon, Richard?” said Braidlaugh.

Swinburne stared up at the explorer, combing an errant shock of hair from his face and twitching drunkenly. “You haven’t been here long enough to catch up.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Algy,” said Burton. “I must go. I have some important matters that need my attention.”

“In the middle of the night?” said Bendeshye.

“So long, gents.”

Burton grabbed his coat and hat and left the dining room, putting on his topper and coat on his way down the stairs to street level. After five minutes of waiting, he hailed a hansom and gave him the address Elizabeth Marsh had provided.

He arrived at five minutes to midnight. Though the day had been clear, a fog crept in off the water, transformed by the gaslights that dotted the bank of the Thames into a milky gloom. Burton wasn’t surprised to find someone standing in that gloom, recognizing the broad, bearded form of Professor George Edward Challenger.

The big zoologist rocked on his heels. “I’m surprised to see you, Burton. I thought you had done with exploring.”

Burton moved next to him. “Nothing wrong with getting a few questions answered before settling down.”

The big man smiled, which looked more like a sneer. Burton blew into his hands and rubbed them together. The night had become unusually damp and chill. “What now?” he muttered.

“Now,” said Professor Challenger. “we wait.”

The two men stood in silence for what felt like a long time, the dank waters of the Thames lapping up against the wooden pilings of the wharf. Professor Challenger rocked back and forth on his heels, beefy hands in his pockets, looking like someone out for a leisure stroll through Green Park.

Burton checked his watch by the murky light of a fog-shrouded gaslight. Five past midnight. They had been played for fools. A cheap trinket no doubt found in some Pacific Rim market stall had them standing out in the damp fog like a couple of imbeciles.

“Stand out here if you want,” Burton said. “I’m getting home and going to bed.”

As he was about to turn away, a loud churning and gurgling came from the water. They ran to the wharf’s edge and peered down.

Burton couldn’t be sure, due to the late hour and the fog, but it appeared that a large, dark shape was rising up from the water like some great whale. At first, he thought it some huge creature of the sea, traveling up the Thames because it had somehow lost its way. No, the skin was hard, uniform. Metallic.

A portal or hatch opened and out climbed a familiar female form, wearing the same green dress.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Elizabeth Marsh, looking up at them. “I am glad both of you are here. My traveling companion said to invite you both, in case one of you declined.”

She emerged from the small hatch in the hide of the metallic beast and stood next to the opening. “You asked me earlier how I could find that artifact deep underwater, and how I could know of some undersea upheaval. This is how.” She gestured with a gloved hand to the thing she stood on.

Burton looked from the woman to the opening in the top of the contraption and took a step back.

“My dear Miss Marsh,” said Professor Challenger. “This might answer one question, but it raises a hundred or so more.”

Elizabeth Marsh smiled. “And those questions will be answered, if you are ready. My traveling companion has selected you for a noble purpose. A great, dangerous journey awaits you, full of wonders you couldn’t possibly imagine.”

“Miss Marsh,” said Burton. “I have traveled all over this world. I have seen things few white men will ever see. I’ve crossed dangerous jungles, treacherous mountains, dealt with ferocious natives. I’ve almost been killed by malaria more than once. What could you possibly show me that I haven’t already seen?”

“With all due respect, Captain Burton,” said Elizabeth Marsh, “you have only traveled the earth’s surface. What my traveling companion offers you is a glimpse at the remaining two thirds. What I can offer you abides below.”

“By Jove,” Challenger rumbled. “Count me in!”

“Miss Marsh,” said Burton. “I thank you for invitation, but I am done with exploring. I am going to marry and take a diplomatic post and write.”

“That is your choice,” said Elizabeth Marsh. “I am not asking either of you to make your decision right this minute. My companion knows what an important decision this is. And believe me when I say that history will not think less of you for declining. You have each done enough for a thousand lifetimes. But this is a one-time offer that expires twenty-four hours from now. You have until tomorrow at midnight to make up your minds and prepare for your journey. If you are coming with us, meet me here then.”

“My mind is made up,” said Challenger. “I will see you on the morrow, Miss Marsh.” He bowed and tipped his hat. “What say you, Burton? Are you game for another adventure?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, turning his head and looking down the wharf. “I don’t know.”

When they looked down at the water once more, Elizabeth Marsh and her incredible underwater machine were gone.

Burton awoke to late morning light filtering through his window, shaking off the vestiges of strange dreams.

He thought himself back in his tent on the banks of Lake Victoria, still in the grips of malaria. He could almost smell the horses, hear the tent canvas snapping in the hot breeze. It took him a moment to get his bearings, to remember where he was.

“I’m in my bed,” muttered the explorer. “In my home at Gloucester Place.”

He squeezed the freshly starched sheets, which solidified his place and time. He felt like he was being pulled in a dozen directions at once. Burton lay there until the sensation passed, then got up and dressed in a loose-fitting white jubba before heading down the hall to his study.

Burton entered and, for the first time since returning to London, felt like he was home. He moved passed the elephant foot umbrella stand to the row of bookshelves covering one wall. “Home is where the books are,” he said, running his fingers along the spines.