Through a Passage in Time

By Fred L. Hale

"Through a Passage in Time" tells the story of a retired college professor living in the present day. The professor believes his soul has traveled through a transference portal from the 1700s to the present time. A former student joins him on his adventure,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fred L. Hale
• Release date: May 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781952648397

Fred L. Hale

Fred L. Hale was born in the small farming community of Wilbur, Washington. He grew up playing sports, hunting, fishing, and swimming. He often read comic books and would create his own superheroes or adventure books. His interest in writing piqued in high school while taking journalism and literature classes, encouraging him to write children's short stories. In college, Hale received a Master's degree in Horticulture. He married and had two children. His interest in writing was placed on hold for about 20 years. Eventually, after writing a story-poem to read to his children, he was encouraged to pursue writing and earned his certification as a poet once he became published. After his wife's passing, Hale moved to Spokane, Washington, where he worked in maintenance for a local college. He met his current wife Sandra in 2003. They both retired and now live in the small community of St. John, Washington. Hale is back to writing and loves to see the smiles on the children's faces when hearing his short stories.

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Through a Passage in Time

Copyright 2021 by Fred Hale

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this book is illegal and publishable by law.

ISBN-EPub 978-1-952648-39-7

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My name is Matthew H. Stein. I was a college professor at a local University. I taught world history for several years there until I retired. I never married and I’m still a single man at the age of seventy-two. I stand six foot four inches and have a yellow lab named Buck. He is my best friend. It is November 2nd the air is crisp; the breeze is gentle. I am strolling on a morning walk with Buck as I try to do every day. Though my mind is on things that happened a week ago, I can’t help but notice a low-lying fog settling in as I am crossing a bridge on the river near my home. I stop to watch the water flow by, and slowly I look downriver as the fog seems to cover it like a soft blanket. The events of a week ago just won’t leave my mind and I start to daydream about things that are inexplica ble to me.

One week ago, I was watching a news broadcast about a treasure-seeking ship. Treasure hunters were looking for a sunken vessel that is supposed to be off the shore’s northeast of Venezuela. It is a small chain of islands known as the Grenadines. The island is known as St. Lucia. The ship is supposed to be inside the Port of Castries with its cargo intact. As I was watching the broadcast I knew just as sure as I am sitting here that they are looking in the wrong place. I have an eerie feeling that I know where this sunken ship is located. I listened with intensity for the name of the ship that they are looking for. . ..

Someone said they thought it may possibly be theShark.

I don’t know why, nor do I understand how, but I am sure I know where the vessel is. I just know they are looking in the wrong area.

Jumping up to get my world map to look to see where they are. I chuckled to myself and looked down at Buck. "I know where the Shark is, I told him. Latitude 12° north, longitude 61° west, depth approximately one hundred feet. It is about two to three miles southeast of Palm Island."

In years past I had often felt that I didn’t belong in this time, that I was truly someone else. I understood even at a very early age that I belonged in another era. I never really told anyone but kept this to myself. As I was deep in thought, flashbacks occurred to me. It was as if I were there, somewhere else in time. I was remembering names of people, ports that I had been to, and yes, even people I had killed.

The intensity of my memory started to fade. Buck tugged on his leash and growled, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. It startled me and I turned with a jerk to see a man with a dark trench coat and a walking stick.

I’m sorry to have startled you. Are you okay? he asked.

Yes, I’m fine, just a little disconcerted I said. How may I help you? I asked. My name is William Breeley, he said, as he reached out to shake my hand. He was staring at me as though he was studying me or as if he might know me. Are you Matthew Stein? he asked.

I am, sir, I answered. What can I do for you? Were you a university professor? he asked.

Why yes I was, but it has been some time ago since I was there. I answered. Why do you ask, and why do you want to know who I am, and where I worked? I asked.

You probably wouldn’t remember me, even though I took a semester in World History from you there. I was a lot younger then, but I was really into your teachings of the trade and shipping routes during the 1700s. he said.

Well, I’m happy that somebody enjoyed my class anyway. I replied. Why are you seeking me now? I asked.

I need to discuss a matter of great importance concerning a lost treasure, he said.

I’m not a treasure hunter, I said, and I must be on my way home; my dog needs to be fed.

He asked, Mr. Stein, could you spare ten minutes of your time? I replied, No.

Please sir, five minutes then? he asked. I quickly answered him, Not today.

He then asked, Perhaps some other day?

I replied, I think not, I . . . He then interrupted me and gave me his card. He told me, You might find our conversation quite . . . fulfilling.

I said, Thank you, and I turned to walk Buck back home.

When I got home, I took Mr. Breeley’s card from my overcoat and put it on the end table next to my chair. I then fed Buck and started a fire in the fireplace, poured myself a brandy, and sat down to warm myself.

As I was staring at the fire in the fireplace, things started to appear ships, ports, and people. I heard laughter, shouting, and pistol fire; there was the passing of liquor bottles and jugs. I saw a ship being loaded with cargo and crews moving about its decks.

I stared at its front bow on the starboard side and saw the name Intrepid. I saw the captain standing by the keel wheel wearing a British uniform. The flag the Intrepid flew is of the first fleet, from the Crown. She has two banks of heavy cannon on the starboard and port sides with a crew of eighty men. Then I saw the first officer, a man in his early twenties. I felt very strange; an eerie feeling came upon me as if I knew this person somehow.

As my daydream faded, I stood up from my chair with drink in hand and I walked to the fireplace and put my glass on the mantel. I turned and looked at Buck and said, What is wrong with me? I keep having these dreams about the 1700s and sailing the seas. Is this where I belong? Am I going crazy? I know deep down inside I don’t belong in this time. I want to know who Iwas.

As I turned my head Mr. Breeley’s card caught my eye. I walked over, picked it up and wondered who this man is and what does he want from me. Why is he so persistent in talking with me about lost treasure? Why is this treasure so important?I’m not a treasure hunter. He is a stranger, I don’t know him, and should I trust him? I decided to wait awhile before contacting Mr. Breeley. I was more interested in the Intrepid and these visions I was having.

Three days later I went to the university’s library to look up information about the Intrepid. I read about how she sailed to a variety of ports. I also found information as to the role she played as part of the British fleet. The Intrepid was a cargo transport vessel. She carried trade goods to and from the Crown’s ports including her home port.

Somewhere during one of the voyages the ship was lost at sea. I was less interested in that part of her history. I was more interested in knowing more about her crew, especially the officers. I found some sketchy information about Captain Phipps and his first officer,

John Harriman Pierce. The account ended abruptly as if Pierce may have disappeared. I wondered if he had been killed or transferred to another ship. I spent most of the day searching for more on John Pierce. I found a book on English sailing ships of the 1700s and 1800s. There is something in it that will help me. So, I checked it out. It seemed very strange that I couldn’t find much on him anywhere. Even stranger was that the ship he was on is also missing. Is there a connection? That nagging feeling that you have forgotten something, but you don’t know what continues to plague me about the first officer. I had never heard the name before, so I am not sure why I feel this way.

It was a Tuesday morning when I got up to feed Buck and turned on the news to see if they had a report on finding the sunken ship. There was still nothing. I picked up the book I got at the library and looked at it again—maybe I missed something. I didn’t find anything new except on the cover I noticed that there was a website printed there for more information. I thought, of course, why not check the website. I should have thought of that first. There had to be some type of material that would be useful. I started toward the computer when Buck kindly reminded me of his morning walk. I reached for my hat and coat and Buck’s leash, and out the door we went.

I decided to take Buck to the park instead of going to the bridge down by the river where we usually walk. While we walked, I was wondering about the officer Pierce and how he just disappeared. I had a hard time believing that a high-ranking first officer of the British fleet just vanishes into thin air. Plus, the ship he was on is also gone. I wondered if Pierce may