Saturn was clear tonight, and Emily decided she would use a Barlow lens to double the magnification. It might be a little more blurry that way, but she was hoping to glimpse the Cassini Division, and maybe even capture a long exposure image with her ten-inch equatorially mounted telescope.
The only real problem was the light pollution in Belfast, Maine, which is why she had set up at the Bayside Campground south of town. She unpacked her SUV, carrying the telescope, equatorial mount, battery, lenses, and lights in separate trips.
With just red lights on to illuminate her workspace and keep her eyes properly dilated, she consulted her charts. It was August 18th. Her twentieth birthday was approaching, as was her sophomore year at the University of Maine. Astronomy was on her radar for the coming year, and she’d convinced her mother to give her a head start with the telescope at Christmas.
“Nice rig,” a man said as he and his wife walked by on the path between their pop-up camper and the showers.
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “Wanna see?”
“We might stop by after we take showers,” the woman said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Emily said.
She turned the computerized telescope on, and it took only a few seconds to find itself with the built-in GPS receiver and properly align itself. Once it was ready, she scrolled to Saturn and hit the go button. Normally, she preferred to do the finding on her own, and Saturn was completely obvious in the sky tonight, but this was a little quicker, and she didn’t have all night. It was already close to ten o’clock by the time she was viewing the rings of her favorite planet.
She was just looking down at her printed sky chart when she shivered as a sudden chill swept through the air. She glanced up, noticing a strange, ethereal glow emanating from the woods to her north, amidst the pines that lined the campground property. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, and an uneasy feeling crept over her. Intrigued but a bit unnerved, Emily set her sky chart down and rose to her feet, her curiosity driving her towards the source of the mysterious light.
Emily climbed the fence bordering the property. It wasn’t really meant to keep anything out, just a simple wooden fence to mark the boundary. On the other side, she passed between pine trees moving towards the glow. While it seemed brighter to her as she got closer, it didn’t really seem to illuminate anything. It remained both ethereally light and still pitch black at the same time. The sounds of the night muted around her, and she felt cold.
She found the center of the light amidst pine trees, well-hidden from the campground, and watched it. There didn’t seem to be a source—just a disembodied light seeming to hover over the grass and dead pine needles.
To her astonishment, a figure materialized before her eyes. At first, it was barely discernible, a mere wisp of mist. But slowly, it solidified into the form of a man. As she came to this realization, her first instinct was to reach into her pocket for her pepper spray. Once she had it in her hand, she held it in front of her while squinting against the light as the silhouette of the man solidified in front of her.
The ghostly light began to fade, leaving the man behind. Emily grabbed her flashlight, turned it on, and pointed it at the man, who shielded his eyes. Emily gasped, astonished at the sight.
The man wore a loose-fitting, long-sleeved shirt made of unbleached linen, loosely laced together, revealing a sunburned chest with a down of black hair exposed from collarbone to sternum. A double-breasted wool jacket, in a sad state of disrepair, was draped over his shoulders. A black scarf was tied around his neck, and he wore heavy cotton trousers extending to the mid-calf, long stockings, and strange leather shoes coming up only to the ankle. He carried a leather bag and had a knife hung from a leather belt. His black hair, extending to below his collar, peeked out from beneath a knitted woolen cap, and an unruly black beard adorned his face. He looked for all the world like he had just escaped a circus or a medieval fair.
He looked disoriented and confused, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. Emily could see the strain etched on his face, a mix of exhaustion and desperation. He stumbled forward, muttering under his breath in a language she recognized but found archaic in its phrasing. He fell to his knees, shying away from the intensity of her flashlight and raising his hands over his head.
“My name is Caleb Harding,” he said. “I serve as a boatswain on the U.S.S. Warren. I yield to your mercy, good sirs. Might you have water and sustenance?”
Emily, though startled by his strange statement, held her ground, lowering her flashlight from his eyes to the area of his knees, so that they could both see each other. She pocketed her pepper spray and raised her hand in a gesture of peace, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said calmly. “My name is Emily. Who are you?”
“A—A lady?” Caleb stammered. “Pray, do you possess food and water?”
It was said with a British accent, of sorts, but it was odd in phrasing and pronunciation somehow.
“Who are you?” Emily asked.
“Caleb Harding, at your service, madam,” he replied. “I am, or rather was, a sailor aboard the Warren. Alas, she is no more, for we were compelled to scuttle her, along with many of our fleet.”
“A fleet of ships?”
“We were charged with the capture of Fort George,” he explained. “Regrettably, it did not go as planned.”
“Fort—Fort George?” Emily asked, a memory from Maine history stirring in the back of her mind. “Are you a re-enactor?”
“I know not what the lady means,” Caleb said, dumfounded.
He wiped his hand over his parched lips.
“Come on,” she said, gesturing and backing towards the campground.
“You’re not British, are you?” he asked.
She laughed nervously. “No, I’m American. Mainer. Born and raised. Are your British? You sound like it.”
“Are the British nearby? Are you a loyalist or patriot?” he asked, his eyes moving side-to-side, wildly.
She stopped and turned to look at him. “Wait, are you serious?” she asked.
“If I am captured,” he said, fear at the edge of his voice, “It is likely that I will be hanged.”
At that, Emily decided the man was unhinged and probably escaped from Bangor Mental Health Institute, although where he found the costume was beyond her. Still, he was hungry and thirsty and filthy, and she could help him with that. The police could take over once she got him some immediate help.
“Come with me,” she said.
He tried to walk behind her, cautiously; but given his long strides and her own caution, she had trouble keeping up with him. She kept her hand touching the pepper spray in her pocket, just in case.
They crossed the fence together, him slightly ahead as she pointed the way, and then crossed the very open and well-groomed lawn towards the showers and vending area.
Caleb stopped not more than ten yards across the grass. Emily stopped with him and saw him gazing at a motorhome parked fifty yards south of her telescope setup.
“What the devil is that?” he asked.
“A motorhome,” she said.
He stared at it. “I’ve not seen its like. Lights without fire abound, strange machines all metal, acting as carriages.”
Emily took a step back, eyeing Caleb with a mix of concern and skepticism. “Look, Caleb,” she said slowly, trying to keep her voice calm and steady, “You seem convinced that you’re from the past, but there’s got to be another explanation. Maybe you’ve had some kind of trauma or... something that’s making you believe this.”
Caleb’s expression grew more desperate. “I am not mad,” he insisted. “I have traversed this wilderness for nigh on two days, and I have witnessed marvels beyond comprehension. Strange carriages without horses, lights brighter than any torch. It seems we sorely underestimated your advancements. I beg of you, do you have water?”
Emily sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Okay, let’s just take this one step at a time. You need food, water, and probably some medical attention. We can figure out the rest later.”
Caleb looked at her, confusion and fear still etched on his face. “You don’t believe me?”
Emily hesitated, then shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you out here. We’ll get you some help, and maybe then we can figure out what’s really going on.”
Caleb nodded reluctantly, his shoulders slumping. “It must sound impossible. But I promise you, I am telling the truth. I am not sure what this place is, but if I am caught and hanged, would you make me a promise to write to my family in Nashua and let them know what has become of me? Would you do me that kindness?”
Emily offered him a small, sympathetic smile. “Let’s just focus on getting you something to eat first, okay? One thing at a time. Come on.”
She offered her hand to coax him along and he accepted it, although he held it in a strange way, with his arm lifted as if they were ballroom dancing together. He kept her at a respectful distance as they walked towards the vending area.
Upon approach, as they were bathed in light, she realized just how filthy the man was, and upon seeing that, she realized for the first time that he did not smell very good either. He also looked slightly malnourished.
“You know what?” she said. “I might actually have some stuff in my car that you could use. You really need a shower.”
“I can’t pretend to understand some words you use,” he said, taking in his surroundings.
They stopped near a set of vending machines, which Caleb looked at in wonder. “The advancements of the British are extraordinary,” he said. “Franklin’s electricity seems to be put to use here. I wonder if he knows they have stolen his ideas.”
“Franklin?” Emily asked.
“An inventor and publisher,” Caleb said. “I am surprised you have not heard of him.”
“I think I have,” Emily said, feeling silly to play this game with the insane man. “You’re talking about Benjamin Franklin, right?”
“Indeed, madam,” he affirmed, his courteous demeanor starkly contrasting his bedraggled appearance.
“Wait here,” she said.
“I will do as you command,” Caleb said.
Emily ran to her SUV, unlocked it, and grabbed her purse from the console. Then she opened the back and was happy to find her brother’s duffle bag still in the back. She turned the overhead light on, opened the bag, and dug through it. Sure enough, it had what she needed: towel, shampoo, soap in a plastic container, clean t-shirts, clean socks, two pairs of gray sweatpants, and even some toothpaste and a toothbrush. He would just have to forgive her for giving his things away.
She returned to the vending area to find Caleb had wandered down the hill a little way to look up at the stars. When he heard her coming, he pointed and said, “Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, the North Star.”
“Come,” she said.
He returned to the vending machines with her, and watched her with astonishment as she produced a bottled water and a honey bun from two different machines. He drank the water thirstily, downing the whole bottle in seconds, and she bought a second, which he also consumed quickly, slowing toward the end. He tested the honey bun, unsure of what he was putting in his mouth, but then he grinned at her and smiled.
“Sweets!” he said. “I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”
“Here,” she said, handing him the clothes and toiletries. “Go get clean.” She pointed him towards the bathroom and showers.
It took him over an hour, at the end of which, Emily had grown impatient.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice echoing inside the shower area.
“I’m not sure I have ever been better, madam,” he called from within. “I will be with you forthwith.”
When he finally came out of the bathroom with damp hair and beard, clean clothes, and bearing the fresh scent of soap, it was like he was a completely different man, attractive even.
“I have never seen such luxury before,” he said as he stared around him. “Did you know that there are over a dozen bowls of clean drinking water just sitting there?”
“Uh—” Emily started.
“Yes, well, I wondered why they were all at knee height until I saw a man empty his bladder into one, which I found disgusting. Why on earth you’d waste perfectly good drinking water that way is beyond me. But then he pushed the handle, draining the urine, apparently outdoors somewhere, and refilled the bowl with clean water. I used one myself and I must say it was a much cleaner process than that to which I am accustomed.”
Emily was laughing by the time he finished his story, and covered her mouth to hide it.
“I see your mirth behind your hand, madam,” Caleb said. “The small room with the spigot filled with unending hot water was heavenly. I have experienced nothing like that.”
“You’ve never had a shower before?” Emily asked.
“A shower?” He contemplated the term. “Yes, that fits. A hot shower, as if a heated bath were poured continually over your head. I must say, it was glorious.”
Emily held out a plastic bag to him, an empty trash bag she had stolen from inside the ladies’ locker room. “Put your dirty clothes in here,” she said.
She watched Caleb as he complied. The man was certainly very strong, and tall, reaching beyond six feet, and now that he was clean, seeming younger than she had first thought.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Of course,” Caleb answered.
“Are you homeless?” She asked it quietly, almost shyly.
“In a manner of speaking, I find myself without a home,” he conceded. “I departed my parents’ abode on the third of June in the year of our Lord seventeen seventy-seven to enlist with the Continental Navy, and have since dwelled aboard the U.S.S. Warren. Now, with the Warren’s demise, I am indeed absent a home.”
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Nearly twenty,” he said. “I’ll be counted as an adult in about four hundred days. I’ve been keeping track in my journal.” He said, looking longingly at the vending machine.
“You still hungry?” Emily asked.
“Famished, I’m afraid,” Caleb replied.
Emily looked at him, the insane, handsome young man who believed he was from the Revolutionary War; but then was reminded of her own insanity, for she had seen him appear from a strangely lit area of the forest where no light should have been. Really, she should just call the cops. She had attempted to do it several times while he showered, and it would have been the best thing to do, surely. But she had hesitated. A mental hospital wasn’t a very nice place to be, she was certain.
What are you doing? she asked herself. This is dumb.
“Can I take you to eat?” she asked, finally.
“I’d be delighted to dine with you,” Caleb said. “Is your home nearby?”
Stephen B. Anthony is the author of Transmigrant, an epic science fiction thriller, available on both Amazon and Audible. The first seven chapters are available on this website for free.
I love displaced time travelers.
I’m so intrigued!!