Julius and the Watchmaker (28 page)

Christian Machine did not respond. Julius was trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Oldsworth stepped closer to them but stopped when he noticed something on the deck. He stooped to pick it up. The ship swayed and the sun climbed further on the horizon as he examined his find.

‘What's this?' he said to himself and held it up to the rising sun. Julius guessed what it was.
Cripes, Higgins, that's it, then
.
Stumps up, back to the pavilion
. The sergeant appeared to be trying to think through his hangover. He beckoned to Deakin. The two sergeants major looked at one another and then at Christian Machine.

‘What's this, Machine?' said Oldsworth.

‘Mine,' crackled the clockman who was slumped on the deck.

‘No. Mine,' crackled the other.

You didn't think of that, did you, Higgins? They're murderers, remember? Not clergymen. We should have made more of the toys, let them choose the one they wanted so they wouldn't fight over them.

‘Where did this contraband come from, Machine?' said Oldsworth, his hangover now forgotten.

Christian Machine did not answer, but he held his grip on Julius's arm. Oldsworth looked at the clockmen, each in turn, looking for clues about what made them tick. He tapped the squashed brass bird on the palm of his hand. Everyone, even Captain Blight, waited in silence. His eyes fell on Christian Machine's clothes and he saw the shape of something concealed behind the lapel. Christian Machine stiffened. There, sticking out of the underside of his lapel, was Aggie's clockwork daisy. Oldsworth pulled it out.

‘What's this?'

Christian Machine was silent.

The sergeant studied the brass flower bud. ‘Nice workmanship.' He looked around again. The hangover was well and truly a thing of the past now. He stared into Christian Machine's eyes. ‘Where did you get this contraband?'

The sergeant's eyes strayed down the clockman's arm to the cadet trembling at the other end. Julius tried not to meet his stare.

‘What d'you know about this, boy?'

‘Nothing.'

Oldsworth watched him. Time ticked past.

‘Pretty little fing,' he said, pretending to study it. ‘What's this key do, then?'

He wound the key and held it up. The tinny tune played and the petals opened. The melody spread throughout the ship. All ears strained to hear it. Then it wound down and the petal closed. There was silence again except for the waves against the hull. The sun was well up now and a salty breeze was blowing across the deck. Julius began to shiver.

‘For the last time, Machine. Where did you get it?'

The clockman did not speak.

Oldsworth let the flower fall to the deck. The clockman tightened his grip on Julius's arm as he and Oldsworth locked eyes.

‘Last chance, Machine,' said Oldsworth.

The clockman did not move.

Oldsworth lifted his leg and smashed the heel of his boot down on Aggie's daisy. The crunching sound jarred through Julius's body. Christian tensed; his internal mechanisms wound tight. His eyes were still locked on Oldsworth.

‘You're naffing, Machine. You hear me? You're a machine. You does what you're told to do. You don't need no kiddie's toys. You need watch oil, that's all, naffing more,' said the sergeant.

Julius heard the springs in Christian Machine's body winding tighter. The sergeant stared, unmoved and unafraid. Christian Machine's springs were wound so tight that the clockman was vibrating under the strain of holding them in place; all they needed was to be released for Christian Machine to smash the ship to splinters.

‘You're naffing, and you know it.'

The clockman's mechanisms whirred. Christian Machine pulled himself up to his full height as if he was trying to burst out of his body. Sergeant Olds-worth stood resolutely still.

Then the clockman's body sagged and the springs unwound harmlessly. Oldsworth smiled to himself.

‘Now, you heard the captain. Throw the boy overboard.'

CHAPTER 24

Saturday 3rd October, 1840
6:02 AM

Christian Machine hoisted Julius up onto the ship's rail. Over the side, the choppy sea was swelling in peaks and valleys of freezing brine.

‘No, wait,' cried out Julius, grabbing one of the ropes of the shroud.

‘I'm sorry,' crackled Christian Machine.

Julius let go of the rope and thrust his hand into his pocket. He took out a handful of Harry's brass spiders. ‘I'm sorry too,' he said.

He threw the spiders to the deck. As soon as they hit the hard wooden surface the glass splinters shattered and the power of the mainsprings was unleashed, just as Harry had said it would. The spiders scuttled up Christian Machine's legs and sought out any crevice they could. One went inside the clockman through the back of his knee joint, another through his armpit, another through his damaged ear opening. Others failed to find any opening and scampered around the surface until they wound down. The three that managed to get inside scuttled towards his chest area where the heart mechanism was. They scurried in amongst the myriad cogs and wheels and as soon as they got stuck and could go no further another internal switch was thrown and their eight legs shot out in all directions as straight as the ship's mast. They locked with the clockman's cogs and wheels, jamming them.

The mechanism ground to a standstill. Christian Machine was dead.

‘I'm sorry,' said Julius, looking one last time into Christian Machine's telescope eyes. He pulled his arm from the dead grip and climbed up the shroud before anyone could shout out any commands.

It's all gone wrong, Higgins, everything. That wasn't supposed to happen. You've got about half a minute to come up with a new plan.

‘Catch that boy, catch him. He's a saboteur. He must be stopped,' shouted Captain Blight to the clockwork crew scattered around the shrouds and along the yardarms.

Julius had only gone up a few rungs of the shroud when he was confronted by his first crewman. He took another spider from his pocket and slammed it into the automaton's head. The impact set the device in motion and in seconds the spider had scuttled down its neck and stopped its heart mechanism causing it to fall to the deck. Julius now had a clear run up to the first yardarm.

‘Man the machine-cannon,' commanded Captain Blight. ‘Shoot the traitor down.'

Julius strained to pull himself up the rungs. One of the officers ran up the ladder to the quarterdeck and was setting the switches and positioning the gun to fire in his direction.
Oh cripes, Higgins, this is truly it. Who would have thought it would end like this?

He looked up to see one of the clockwork crewmen crawling across the yardarm overhead. In a second the automaton would be wrestling him, if the machine-cannon didn't get him first. Holding onto the ropes with one hand Julius searched his pockets for more spiders.
You've used them all up, Higgins. Well done. Marvellous, absolutely splendid.

Then his hand fell on Shelley's watch snug in his inside breast pocket. Instinctively he took it out and spun it in the air. Amber light shone out.
That's a good sign, Higgins.
He glanced at the quarterdeck—the officer was ready to fire. He looked up—the crewman was just above his head.

What have you got to lose, Higgins? It's certain death if you stay here
. The crewman grabbed his shoulder and then leapt onto his back, pinning him to the ropes. The amber light was spreading out around the pocketwatch and the polyrhythm was getting louder.
All you need to do is tap it, Higgins. Just like the professor did.

The crewman wrapped an arm around Julius's neck and the machine-cannon fired. The lead balls tore gashes in the sail near Julius, and one of them hit the crewman's shoulder.

‘Stop firing, you imbecile,' bellowed Captain Blight. ‘You're ripping the sails.'

The automaton kept its hold around Julius's neck. Julius was gagging from the stranglehold. The rope was slipping through his fingers.

The amber glow from the pocketwatch continued to grow, enveloping the entire ship. Julius's fingers relinquished their hold and he fell backwards with the crewman still clinging on. In desperation he clutched for the watch and one of his fingers brushed the edge. Only the slightest of touches, but it was enough.

A deathly silence sliced through the fabric of space and time.

Julius felt himself falling. His arms and legs were groping for something firm to hold onto. The timepiece grew to the size of a city and the ticking boomed through the universe. Circling the enormous pocketwatch was a ring of spinning convicts and officers flailing their arms and legs in a blind panic as they hurtled through the outer rim of a spinning galaxy. Julius suddenly saw the sense of holding hands during a time-jump.

Further out in space was another ring. It was made of millions of ships' parts and the parts of clockmen and the clockwork crew. It was as if the whole ship and the crew had been ripped into their constituent parts. There were nails and lengths of canvas, ropes, splintered wood and brass instruments all orbiting Shelley's pocketwatch.

The next thing Julius knew, he hit the ground and rolled over on soft grass. He grabbed the watch bobbing in the air in front of him. Before he had a chance to get his bearings though, there was a sound like the crash of thunder in the sky. Julius looked up to see a whirlwind of wood, canvas, ropes and brass pieces spinning in the air. All around the larger whirlwind smaller whirlwinds were re-assembling the clockmen and the clockwork crew. Thousands of individual parts of the
Bountiful
were being put back together again as if by the wind.

The fully formed ship hung suspended in the air for less than a second. And in the silence of that moment, Julius stared in open-mouthed helplessness—he knew what was going to happen next.

The great ship smashed into the ground. The hull shattered like an eggshell. Masts, rigging and quarterdeck broke apart, with a strangely balletic grace, under the force of their own weight and momentum, and splintered into thousands of pieces. Julius ran as fast as he could away from the ship. Shards of wood and other ship's parts flew past him through the air and stuck into the lawn. The noise was ear-splitting—an agonising cry gripping and shaking the ground.

As he ran, Julius was overtaken by a crewman and a couple of clockmen bounding with surprising agility across the grass. The whole ship's complement was sprinting away from the crash site. Most of the convicts' chains did not seem to have been correctly reconstructed by the watch and so most of them were free. The unfortunate few who were still shackled looked as if they were running in a very serious three-legged race.

When the shipwreck finally came to rest and all the flying debris had fallen, Julius sank to his knees, exhausted. All around him the convicts and officers of the
Bountiful
stared in disbelief. Throughout the parklands where they had landed were gentlemen in black frock coats and top hats, women in colourful bonnets and voluminous skirts, and children wearing their Sunday best. They were likewise staring in amazement at the spectacle of the shipwreck and its ragtag crew. It took only half a minute though for the spectators to assume that this was only another of so many spectacular events put on to show the superiority of British ingenuity. A small boy in the crowd was the first to clap his hands. Soon the air was full of the sound of cheering and applause.

Julius stood up, fighting the urge to bow. Instead he tucked the watch safely in his pocket. As he did so he noticed that he was kitted out in new clothes to match the fashion around him—a dark suit with a stiff collar that chafed his neck. He looked around.

This is Hyde Park, Higgins. You can be sure of it. But when? That's what you need to know.
Directly behind the crowd Julius could see a huge building made entirely of glass. It had not been there the last time he and his grandfather went for a Sunday stroll in the park. Its thousands of panes glistened in the sunlight. A few of them had been shattered by debris flying from the
Bountiful
. People were queuing up to get inside.
It must be hundreds of years in the future. Nice one, Higgins. Your first independent time-jump and you make a royal mess of it
.

By now the crowd of onlookers were advancing upon the bemused time-travellers to congratulate them on their magnificent theatrical feat. Top-hatted gentlemen shook the hands of the startled convicts. Julius took in a sharp breath when he saw clockmen among the crowd. They wore frockcoats and top hats and walked with an elegant gait. The design of their faces paid more attention to beauty than utility and they were slimmer and more upright in stature than the clockmen Julius knew. These automata headed for the clockwork crewmen and clockmen and proceeded to pat them on their backs and to praise them in cultured tones for their splendid acting. Julius was too small and insignificant in appearance to be noticed, which suited him well—he needed time to think.

‘Julius?' said a familiar voice behind him. He spun around to see an old gentleman in a pale grey frock-coat and silk top hat staggering towards him. His eyes had a distant, haunted look, and he was visibly trembling as he stumbled forward leaning on his cane.

‘Julius, my boy,' he said as he gripped Julius's shoulder for support. ‘What a hullabaloo.'

‘Professor?'

‘Yes, my boy, it's me. I never thought I would see a friendly face again and…and here you are. Fancy seeing you here.'

‘Yes.'

‘Here, let us make a quiet exit from these proceedings. We have much to discuss. Is Mr Flynn with you, by any chance?'

CHAPTER 25

Thursday 21st August, 1851
10:16 AM

Julius made his way through the crowd with the professor leaning on his arm. Anyone who cared to look in their direction would have seen an old gentleman with his grandson out to enjoy the wonders of Hyde Park.