William looked at his wife as she moved towards the door of their cabin, mind set on searching out the creature’s hiding place. Her wild eyes and tangled hair would attract a great deal of attention on deck. He had half a mind to ask her to stop for a moment so that she could tame her hair into a more socially acceptable style, but when he looked at the fierce and determined glint in her eyes, he could only remain mute. He didn’t give a fig what the other passengers might think of them anyway, and he knew Buffy wouldn’t care.
After days of her lethargy, to see her alive and on fire like this? He couldn’t bear doing the slightest thing that would dim the spark growing inside her.
Buffy stomped into the hall, then turned amidship, leading him down a large stairwell in the center of the ship. After going down one flight of steps, she stopped.
“This was the last I saw of Dru.” Buffy pointed down the dim hallway leading aft. “She might have gone down this hall, or she might have just kept going down the stairs. I have no idea.”
“What sort of place would Dru favor?”
“Something dark and quiet. She’d want a hidey hole,” Buffy responded.
“My guess is that she went further down the stairs, then. I know the ship fairly well, and that hallway houses the crew’s quarters and the boiler room.”
They continued down the steps, the hallway narrowing as they descended. The stairs ended at the next landing, where they found themselves looking at a ruined metal gate. It was rather flimsy lattice-work, intended separate the third class section of the ship. The locking mechanism had been ripped off, as though it had been made of paper instead of metal. The top hinges had been partially torn from the wall.
Buffy shot him a knowing glance. It was the kind of look that partners would share. It said, “Do you see what I see, William?” And he did. The creature that attacked him would clearly be capable of rending metal in such a fashion.
Gingerly, Buffy stepped around the sagging metal frame and went down the short hallway leading to the rear of the ship. In the thin morning light they could just make out a few supply rooms and, at the end of the hall, a large door which read ‘Cargo Hold’.
As full of fire as she was, he was half afraid that she’d try the handle, but she did not. She spun around at smiled up at him, her gaze confident and sure.
“Who we need here,” she said, “is George.”
He grinned. “Excellent idea, love. Perhaps I could locate the lad while you wait in our cabin?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not really the waiting around type.”
“I know. That’s what worries me.”
“Fine. I’ll come with you,” she grumbled, as she gave a reluctant last glance at the locked door and followed him up the stairs.
~*~
George’s shoes rang on the metal steps as he descended. His brows raised in surprise as he stepped over the remnants of the metal gate.
“I suppose some of the fellows in third class got a bit deep in their cups last night and have gone and torn apart the gate,” George offered by way of explanation. “I’ll need to report this as soon as we’re through. Would you like to wait until the mess has been tended to?”
“No, thank you, George,” William said. “As I said, we simply need to, well, to look in the cargo hold. Just for a few minutes.”
“Very well, sir.” George reached into his pocket and fished out a large ring of keys.
After sorting through the confusing jumble of keys, George finally found the correct one and fitted it in the lock. The door swung open easily, and George attempted to lead the way into the room, but Buffy stepped in just ahead of him, ever the protector. William stuck as close to her side as he was able in the confining corridor. The hold was an inky black mystery. The light spilling from the doorway illuminated enough of a patch that they were able to see a small shelf with several oil lamps.
Perhaps it was the unrelenting darkness of the room, but there was a sense of otherness which permeated the hold. A sense that something was not right. A crawling sensation, like rats moving silently behind a wall.
George struck a match and touched the flame to the lamp's wick. William couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble to George’s fingers, betraying that William wasn’t alone in his unease. William took another silent step into the room, attempting to remain by Buffy's side. He noticed that George and Buffy were behaving similarly, moving stealithy and taking soundless footsteps as they moved about just inside the doorway.
Buffy squinted into the darkness, then took a few steps further into the room. William felt his heart lurch in his chest as she did so, and he found himself holding his breath. Buffy looked over to him; even in the dark her green eyes sparkled with a knowing look. She’s here, William. I can feel it. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded in response.
Once George had adjusted the wick to maximum brightness, he held the lamp above his head to illuminate as much of the room as possible. The glow flickered against stacks and stacks of wooden crates, nearly identical, as far as the light would reach. William cast a quick glance to his wife, who had her lips pursed in an unreadable expression.
It was painfully obvious that if the creature were hiding here, it would take days to find her, even with a crew of several men.
Upon seeing the dozens upon dozens of wooden crates, Buffy’s look of determination flickered briefly. She hovered there, just on the edge of the room, while he struggled with the right words to say to coax her out of this evil place. Surprisingly, before he found the right thing to say, it was George who broke the silence.
“Mrs. Pratt? Mr. Pratt? If you don’t mind my saying so, I’ve a terribly uncomfortable feeling just now, and I’ve duties to attend to. Would you mind terribly if…” He trailed off, blushing furiously at his boldness.
“You’re so right, George,” Buffy reassured him. “Exposing you to this place is just dumb. We’ve seen what we needed to see for now. Thank you for your help.”
The light from the lamp jittered and danced as George placed it back on the shelf with shaking hands. He trimmed the wick until the flame guttered out, then he led the little party back out to the hallway and locked the door behind them.
With one final glare at the door, Buffy reluctantly followed the men up the stairs.
~*~
After said quick goodbyes to an apologetic George before retreating to the comfort and privacy of their cabin.
The moment he’d shut the door behind them, she burst out with it. “You know as well as I that Dru was in the storage hold. Even George could sense it.”
William nodded. “It’s stronger with you though, isn’t it? You can sense her, somehow.”
“Yes, William.”
“How is that so?”
“It’s a Slayer thing. Besides having super-strength and terrific healing abilities, Slayers have a kind of vampire radar.”
“Radar?” he asked.
“We can just tell where vampires are. A kind of sense. Didn’t you kind of wonder what I was doing wandering around the ship at five in the morning in my nightie?”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
“I woke up in the middle of the night with a strong sense that there was a vampire nearby. It was the first time I’d felt like myself, like a Slayer, since this whole thing started. When I noticed you were missing as well, I opened up the door and followed the sound of your voices. And followed the vampire tingling.”
“The same feeling you had when you were in the cargo hold?”
“Yes. And may I add how much it sucks that of all my powers, the only one that sticks around is this one? I would so trade super-strength for spidey-sense.”
He nodded, but remained silent.
“So, now that we know where Dru is, the question is, what are we going to do about it?” Her eyes sparked and burned, thoughts turning in her head.
“We could go through all those crates, one by one,” she mused, almost to herself. “And that’s a really stupid idea. Why would they let the two of us go through everybody’s stuff? Even if we did find her, I’m just a girl. What am I going to do about it? Without slayer powers, I’m useless.”
“Hardly that, love.” He winced. Would she notice that he’d called her love? Would she mind?
She continued to pace about their cabin, her nervous hands toying with the broken umbrella handle.
“What we need is for the majority of those stupid crates to…disappear,” she grumbled in frustration.
“And how could we manage to do that?”
She stopped pacing for a moment and looked at him, an idea forming just behind her green eyes. “Once we dock in New York City, the people who actually own the crates will claim their cargo – leaving only the shipped items. And Dru.”
He couldn’t help but grin at her, even in these circumstances. “You’re quite brilliant. Do you know that?”
She scoffed at him, but he could see a ghost of a grin touch her lips for a moment.
“So, the only remaining question would be what then?” he asked.
“How do I keep everybody safe in the meantime?” She stopped twirling her stake about, and looked at him with growing confidence. “How do I keep Dru in lockdown?”
“Excellent! So let’s handle that question, shall we? In order to secure the creature in the hold, we would first need to…”
“See the captain,” Buffy interrupted.
“See the…?” He paused and looked at her. Her eyes sparkled, and she gave him a confident nod. The small fire that had begun burning in her jumped a little, danced. He was powerless to it. “The captain it is, then.”
~*~
After waiting for nearly three hours, William had begun to doubt they would ever see the captain. At first the officer of the watch had told them that such a meeting would be impossible, but William had insisted, and they’d waited, firmly placing themselves in a conspicuous position near the wheelhouse.
Buffy’s impatience had been growing by the hour, and by three o’clock she was coiled as tightly as a watch spring. William had nearly given up hope when the coxswain came to inform them that the captain had a few moments time and would meet with them in his cabin.
They were led to a well-appointed room just behind the quarter deck, where Captain Parsell was seated behind a desk full of charts and assorted papers. With his grey hair and beard he was the absolute picture of a stereotypical sea captain, though his hair was a little on the long side of respectability. He greeted them with a warm smile and gave a nod to the coxswain, who abruptly departed.
“What can I do for you? Mr. Ellis informs me that you’ve a matter of some urgency which you wish to discuss.” The captain looked at William expectantly.
“Ah, yes…” William began, nervously. During their endless hours waiting on the bridge, he’d gone over the speech in his mind dozens of times. Now that he was actually faced with the captain, he found that he’d spent far too much effort concocting a story and far too little time considering what a bad liar he was.
“My wife and I were in the cargo hold earlier today and were met with a most disturbing sight. We witnessed several vermin that were clearly infected with rabies.” He’d been told by an old schoolmate that the cleverest lies were the ones that were close to the truth. When he’d first learned of vampirism, Elizabeth had described it as being similar to rabies, and so he borrowed her explanation.
“Rabies?” The captain looked horrified. “I don’t wish to impugn your judgment, but are you quite certain?” His eyes flickered to Buffy, who nodded enthusiastically.
“Big, stinking foamy rats,” she confirmed.
“This is gravely concerning,” Captain Parsell muttered. “We shall need to send in a crew to exterminate them.”
“Or not!” Buffy exclaimed.
“I beg your pardon?” The captain asked.
“That is to say, wouldn’t it be more prudent to simply lock down the hold, rather than risk your men being infected?” William suggested, feeling his cheeks color at his boldness.
"I can understand your alarm," the older gentleman assured, not unkindly. “We have a certain protocol when dealing with this type of situation. The passenger’s safety is my primary concern. We must clear out the hold as soon as possible.”
Buffy shot William a helpless glance before speaking. ”It’s not safe. We were hoping you’d just lock it down, tight. Sending your crew into that hold would be the worst kind of mistake, really.”
The captain gave her a startled look.
“They’re huge rats. Ginormous, really,” she offered by way of explanation. She was losing and she knew it. She shot another worried glance to William, and he couldn’t help but feel a desperate need to not disappoint her in this.
An unexpected thought came to him, and before he could analyze it too carefully, he simply blurted it out in the form of a question. “You’ve lost a few passengers on this voyage, haven’t you, Captain Parsell?”
Both the captain and Buffy slowly swiveled their heads to look at him. The puzzled gazes on their faces were oddly similar.
“I’d wager that an unusual number of third class passengers, in the aft part of the ship, have been reported as missing. Am I correct?”
“It is true.” The captain’s voice was measured and cautions. “Occasionally the lads will have too much to drink and end up overboard….”
“But not like this voyage,” William pressed. “Unless I miss my guess, almost every night, a missing passenger has been reported and always from that area of the ship.”
Buffy beamed at him, her eyes glowing with pride. His heart stuttered a bit in his chest – not out of nervousness at his boldness with the captain, but at that look that his wife was beaming in his direction.
“It is true,” the captain was humbled, pensive. “Last night was the only night in which we’ve not dealt with the issue. Only two days ago I doubled the security detail to address the problem. How did you know? Did you hear my staff discussing the issue?”
"Nothing like that,” William assured the older man. “But the cause of the missing passengers isn’t what they’re drinking. It’s what’s in the hold.”
“You propose a solution then?” The captain was faltering now. William had expected a blustering man-in-charge attitude and had instead encountered a humble man who seemed genuinely concerned about the safety of the third class passengers.
“If you could simply lock down the doors of the cargo hold, very securely. I would suggest chains, the strongest you’ve got. Secure the doors firmly. One night of this, and your missing passenger problem would be taken care of, I assure you.”
“The…rats…you spoke of?”
William nodded.
“It’s an extremely odd solution to a vermin infestation.”
“And it’s extremely odd vermin that make passengers disappear,” Buffy added.
The captain folded his hands neatly and looked at the backs of his hands, lost in thought. He nodded contemplatively and met William’s gaze with raised brows. “Very well. I shall follow your suggestion.”
Buffy gave a quick whoop of victory, then quickly cast demure eyes at the floor, completely missing the look of adoration from her husband.
~*~
William had insisted she return to the cabin without him while he made arrangements for the remainder of the afternoon. When he entered the cabin, he'd hoped to find her asleep, but he really knew her better than that. She was pacing the length of the floor, twirling her umbrella-stake, a veritable steam engine of suppressed energy.
The moment he entered the room, she pounced. No nuance, no sublety to his bride – just shining honesty. “What have you been up to?” she asked.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Making very innocent arrangements with the steward.”
“What kind of arrangements?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“I’ve reserved a bathing room. You are scheduled for five o’clock, and I have reserved the 6 o’clock time slot.”
“Am I stinky?” she asked, offended and embarrassed.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. Her American frankness was something that always caught him off-guard, yet he found delightful.
“You smell divine, darling. I merely thought after our exertions, a warm bath would be soothing.” He moved to the wardrobe and began busily sorting through their belongings. He was certain he’d seen some scented soaps when she’d unpacked. Besides, if he kept busy she would be less likely to question his motivations in scheduling her bath.
"Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet and sincere.“You’re quite welcome,” he replied, keeping his head away from her so that she couldn’t detect the blush that was sure to be creeping up his cheekbones.
“I know I’ve been…well, a huge pain in the ass…” she faltered, insecure. As much as he wanted to hide from her at this point, he couldn’t resist the pull of her. Uncovering a wrapped bar of scented soap, he grasped it and turned to face her, pressing it into her hand with both of his hands, then held her hands in his, lingering.
“It’s alright, love.” This time he looked at her as he said it, unafraid.
She returned his gaze with a watery smile before looking nervously at the floor. He released her hands and stepped backward.
“To the bath, then?” she asked.
“Quite right. It’s only just a little past five o’clock now. The bathing room is just around the corner.” He fished a small skeleton key from his pocket and pressed it into her hand next to the soap.
She moved around the room, gathering clothing and other toiletries before stepping towards the door. Just before she closed the door she graced him with a shy smile. His heart gave a strange squeezing lurch and he damned himself for being a besotted fool.
He waited a full minute after the latch had clicked before setting to work and preparing for the real reason that he’d arranged her reservation in the bathing room. He figured that he’d likely have a half hour to himself, but to remain on the safe side, he’d make his preparations in under twenty minutes.
With any luck, she’d be so preoccupied with keeping the ship safe and checking the Captain’s security in the hold that she’d not look too deeply into William’s eyes for the rest of the evening. Besides, as their meeting with the Captain had proven, he was becoming quite proficient at deception. There was no reason to think he wasn’t capable of deceiving his wife for her own good.
With a determined nod, William set to work.
------------------------------
Author's notes:
Captain Henry Parsell – was a real guy and the captain of the Adriatic during this time period. By all accounts he was a sweet man. In his later years he even joined the ladies afternoon tea parties without fail. “He has a distinct personality about him which makes one glad to know him and likely to remember him. He is an intelligent man and of so genial a type that he never gets out of patience with a passenger.” With any luck, just below you can see a little pic of him.
Were you wondering about welding? I know I was. “Why didn't they weld the doors shut?” Come to find out – up to this point in time they only had forge welding! No spot welding, no arc welding. Just the kind of welding where you heat two things up and smash them together. The same way they'd been doing things for thousands of years. The same way Thor made his hammer. It was the advent of electricity that changed things around. (Electricity: Not Just For Vibrators Anymore!)